Hi, guys, you can call me Vale and welcome to my blog!
On this post I want to communicate small things that I am asked a lot and others that I want to clarify on my own.
I want to clarify that I update every 3 days.
Requests are closed for now, but when they're open again so don't be afraid to go and ask for what you want to read.
I write mostly about Weak Hero, although perhaps in the future I will be encouraged to write about other characters from other series.
I also write on wattpad and AO3. If you want to read long fanfics about weak hero characters, you can go to my wattpad, I have English and Spanish versions in case you're interested (I will be posting them on AO3 in the future).
I want to clarify this: I write mainly in Spanish, so I use a lot of "—", many people believe that this is a sign that AI is used, but it is not like that, it has simply become part of my use since I have wattpad (2018) and even in school. But i´ll try no to use it to much to not get you guys confused!
Also, I want to clarify that my first language is not English, so I may make mistakes sometimes or use expressions in the wrong way, I apologize in advance, I really hope that my stories help you to get out of reality even if it is for a moment.
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If you have another question to ask me, do not hesitate to ask it, I will be happy to answer it.
THIS ARE MY MASTERLIST:
1. ONE SHOT/SCENARIOS MASTERLIS
2. LONG FANFICS (WATTPAD AND A03) MASTERLIST
Nothing more to say. I hope you enjoy your reading!
Hi, I really like your fanfics here and on Wattpad. Could you write something about Seungje? One where he has a secret/low-profile relationship to protect his girlfriend, but one day when he's while doing some union work, he realizes that his girlfriend is a victim of bullying.They both go to different schools. She was like a Juntae or Beomseok at her school and never told Seungje anything because she was embarrassed that he would find out and think she was pathetic or something. I hope you like the idea 🫂
PATHETIC;gsj
Geum Seongje x Fem Reader
N O T E : Yesterday was my birthday so i couldn´t update, but i hope this is what you asked for baeeee!
Geum Seongje was, in every sense of the word, completely deranged.
Everyone in the district knew it. The thugs from other schools trembled just hearing his name. His reputation in the Union, under Na Baekjin's command, was built on broken bones and sadistic smiles.
Seongje enjoyed violence. He enjoyed the sound of someone's nose breaking under his fist. He had no empathy, no mercy, and definitely no patience.
But there was one exception to all his twisted rules. Just one.
Her.
Their relationship was the best-kept secret in all of Seoul. No one in the Union, not even his closest subordinates, knew she existed. Seongje had personally made sure of that.
In his world, showing weakness was a death sentence. If his enemies discovered that the great Geum Seongje had a girlfriend, they would go after her without hesitation to use her against him.
And Seongje couldn't allow that. Because she wasn't part of his world.
She went to a different school, an academy that seemed quiet and normal. She was shy, studious, and whenever she was with him, she always wore a sweet smile. Seongje saw her as something fragile, something pure that he needed to keep far away from the blood and filth of his own life.
That's why his dates were always low-profile: late-night walks, dinners in distant restaurants, or nights in his apartment where no one could bother her.
He cared for her in his own rough but possessive way. And she always told him everything was fine. That school was going great, that her classes were boring but peaceful.
But it was all a damn lie.
And Seongje was about to find out in the worst possible way.
It was Thursday afternoon. Seongje was in a foul mood.
He had gone to collect money from a group of idiots who were late with their Union payments. Coincidentally, the meeting spot was just a few blocks from her school. He finished quickly, breaking a couple of ribs to make the message clear, and sent his subordinates back.
He decided to stay a while. Leaning against the wall of a filthy alley, he lit a cigarette, exhaling gray smoke into the cloudy sky. He thought about texting her to meet later, since she was nearby.
But before he could pull out his phone, he heard noises coming from behind an abandoned building at the end of the alley.
Teenage voices. Mocking laughter, a dull thud, and the sound of coins hitting the ground.
Seongje rolled his eyes. He hated kids playing at being thugs. Normally, he would have ignored them. It wasn't his problem if some losers were fighting over lunch money.
"This is all you brought?" a shrill, annoying girl's voice rang out. "I told you I wanted the cream bread from the downtown bakery, stupid. Are you deaf or just an idiot?"
"I-I'm sorry… they were sold out…" came a trembling, timid reply.
The cigarette nearly slipped from Seongje's fingers.
That voice.
He froze. His brain short-circuited for a split second. He knew that voice perfectly. It was the same voice that said "good morning" on the phone, the same voice that laughed at his sarcastic comments.
He dropped the cigarette and walked silently toward the back of the building, hiding behind a dumpster to see what was happening.
What he saw made his blood freeze, then boil.
There she was.
Kneeling on the dirty concrete. Her uniform stained with dust. In front of her stood four of her classmates: two girls and two boys. One boy was rummaging through her backpack, tossing her notebooks to the ground, while the leader girl sneered at her, clutching the little money she had.
She was the perfect target. The errand girl. The punching bag. She was the victim everyone trampled at school.
"You're useless," the girl spat, slapping her across the left cheek.
The sound echoed through the alley.
She lowered her head, curling into herself, trembling with fear. She didn't fight back. She didn't scream. She just let them hit her, as if she were completely used to it. As if it was her daily routine.
Seongje felt the world stop.
His mind filled with questions. Why hadn't she told him? Why did she always smile when he asked about school? How long had she been enduring this while he thought she was safe?
But the questions vanished quickly, replaced by something far more familiar to Geum Seongje: murderous, sadistic, uncontrollable rage.
One of the boys raised his foot to kick her in the stomach, mocking her.
But the blow never landed.
Before his foot could touch her, Seongje burst from hiding. With terrifying speed, he grabbed the boy by the collar and slammed him against the brick wall.
The impact was brutal. The boy spat blood instantly and collapsed, clutching his head and groaning in pain.
Silence fell over the alley.
She looked up, tears in her eyes, her cheek red, and felt her heart stop.
It was Seongje.
He was there. He had seen everything.
The other three froze, pale with terror. They recognized the jacket, the hair, and above all, the twisted, psychotic smile on Seongje's face.
"Well, well…" Seongje said, cracking his knuckles slowly. "Looks like the trash from this school has too much free time."
"G-Geum Seongje?!" stammered the other boy, backing into the trash cans. "W-we didn't do anything! We don't have problems with the Union!"
Seongje let out a dark, humorless laugh. He didn't look at them. He looked down at her.
She was paralyzed. The fear she felt for the bullies was nothing compared to the absolute panic of Seongje seeing her like this. Her biggest secret, her deepest shame, had just been exposed.
She knew how pathetic she was. She knew she was a coward who let herself be humiliated like a stray dog.
"No problems with the Union…" Seongje repeated, dragging out the words. Then he lifted his gaze, his eyes turning into black pits of madness. "But you've got a very, very big problem with me."
Without warning, he lunged forward. He grabbed the boy by the hair and kneed him in the face. The sound of cartilage breaking was sickening. The boy collapsed unconscious instantly.
The two girls screamed, trying to run.
But Seongje had no mercy. Not even for girls. He grabbed the leader by her backpack and threw her to the ground with brutal force. He leaned over, gripping her collar and lifting her slightly off the floor.
"What's wrong?" Seongje whispered, his sadistic smile inches from her terrified face. "Not so tough now? Where's that strength you use to slap people?"
"Please! Let me go!" she cried desperately.
Seongje looked at her with disgust and tossed her aside like garbage. He kicked her ribs, knocking the air out of her.
"Look at her again… breathe near her again, and next time I won't just break your face. I'll rip out your eyes and make you eat them," Seongje warned coldly. Those still conscious nodded frantically, crawling away like cockroaches.
When the bullies disappeared, limping and crying, silence returned.
Seongje stood with his back to her for a few seconds, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to control the adrenaline and the urge to keep beating someone to death.
She was still on the ground, trembling uncontrollably, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't dare make a sound.
She waited for the moment he turned, looked at her with disgust, and told her that she made him sick. That she was a loser he didn't want anymore.
Seongje turned slowly.
He walked toward her. His footsteps echoed on the concrete.
He stopped in front of her. His tall, threatening figure cast a shadow. She shrank further, closing her eyes tightly, bracing for cruel words.
But instead, Seongje let out a long, heavy sigh. He crouched down, and without a word, took her arms and lifted her carefully.
"Seongje… I…" her voice broke into a sob.
"Shut up. Don't talk here," he cut her off sharply, making her flinch.
He picked up her notebooks, stuffed them back into her bag, slung it over his shoulder, grabbed her hand firmly, and pulled her out of the alley toward the car Na Baekjin had given him for "work," though Seongje clearly didn't care what it was for.
He opened the passenger door, pushed her gently inside, then got into the driver's seat.
He started the engine, locked the doors, and sped off.
Seongje drove fast, gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. His jaw was tense. He hadn't looked at her once since leaving the alley.
She sat curled up, hugging her knees, crying silently. Shame consumed her.
She had spent months pretending to be normal around him. Seongje was feared, strong, untouchable. What would he think now? She knew perfectly well. He'd think she was pathetic. A victim, good for nothing but errands. Surely he'd leave her. How could the great Geum Seongje be with the school's punching bag?
Finally, Seongje stopped abruptly near the Han River. He killed the engine.
The silence inside the car was suffocating.
"Explain," Seongje suddenly said. His voice was low, grave, demanding.
She swallowed hard, unable to meet his eyes. Her trembling hands were all she could look at.
"I'm sorry…" she managed between sobs. "I-I know you're going to leave me… I know I disgust you…"
Seongje frowned. He turned fully toward her, resting one arm on the back of her seat.
"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused and angry.
"That I'm pathetic!" she burst out, finally lifting her tear-filled eyes to his. "You saw it, Seongje! I'm a loser! I let them hit me, steal my money, treat me like trash. I don't fight back. I'm a punching bag. I'm exactly the kind of person you always mock!"
Silence filled the car again. Seongje stared at her, analyzing every word, every tear sliding down her face.
"And why the hell didn't you tell me?" he demanded, raising his voice slightly. "We've been together for months. I always ask how you're doing. You always say everything's perfect! Why did you lie to my face?"
"Because I was scared!" she cried, breaking down even more. "I was scared that if you found out, you'd think I'm weak and boring. You're strong, Seongje. Everyone fears you. If you knew I was the girl everyone humiliates… you'd be ashamed of me. You'd pity me."
At her confession, Seongje's expression shifted.
The fury he'd felt toward the bullies faded for a moment, replaced by frustration—and something else.
Something he almost never felt: guilt.
He had thought he was protecting her by keeping her hidden. He thought his world was the only dangerous one. It had never crossed his mind that in her "boring" school, parasites were making her life hell, and she was enduring it alone out of fear of his reaction.
He cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair in desperation.
Then he leaned forward, unbuckled her seatbelt in one swift motion, and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her tightly across the console.
The movement was so sudden she let out a small gasp, but the moment she felt his strong, warm arms around her, she collapsed completely, burying her face in his neck, sobbing until she couldn't breathe.
"You're a complete idiot…" Seongje whispered near her ear. His voice was still rough, but the way he held her, crushing her against his chest as if she were the most precious thing in the world, said otherwise.
"I-I'm sorry…" she cried.
"Shut up. Don't apologize for this," he scolded, his hand clumsy but firm as it stroked her hair. "Listen carefully, because I won't repeat it. I don't care if you're weak. I don't care if you can't fight. That's my job. I'm the monster, I'm the one who breaks bones. Got it?"
She pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes, still hiccupping from the sobs.
"But… don't I make you… ashamed?"
Seongje snorted, wiping her tears with his thumbs, careful when he touched the red mark on her cheek. Seeing it made his jaw clench with rage again.
"The only thing that pisses me off is that you didn't tell me sooner," he admitted. "It makes me sick to think of all the times those bastards touched you and I wasn't there to rip their arms off. Ashamed of you? Don't say stupid things. You're mine. You're the only thing in this damn world that really matters to me. And nobody—absolutely nobody—has the right to trample what's mine."
His words were raw, possessive, even frightening, but coming from Geum Seongje, they were the deepest, most sincere declaration of love possible.
He didn't judge her for being weak. On the contrary, his violent instinct to protect had ignited completely—just for her.
"Seongje… I don't want you to get into trouble at my school…" she murmured, feeling safer in his arms but still worried.
He smirked. That cold, dangerous smirk that defined him.
"Too late for that. Those idiots I left in the alley already got the message. But just in case, tomorrow I'm paying your school a little visit during lunch break," he said calmly, which was even more terrifying. "I'll make sure the whole damn academy knows who you belong to. No one will ever look at you wrong again. And if they do, I'll burn that school down with them inside."
Her eyes widened in alarm. "No! You can't burn the school!"
Seongje laughed. A rough, genuine laugh. He cupped her face and kissed her deeply, leaving her breathless and wiping away all her insecurities in one stroke.
"It was a metaphor. More or less…" he teased, brushing his nose against hers. "But I mean it. No more secrets. No more hiding you to protect you. Clearly, hiding didn't work. From now on, everyone's going to know you're mine. Let's see if anyone in this city is suicidal enough to lay a finger on you once they know Geum Seongje is your boyfriend."
She felt a massive weight lift off her shoulders. She leaned against his chest again, closing her eyes.
For the first time in months, she wasn't afraid anymore.
"Thank you, Seongje…" she whispered.
"You'd better not hide anything from me again, or I'll punish you myself," he warned, kissing her forehead. "And tomorrow you're giving me the list of names of everyone who treated you badly. Every single one."
"Seongje, it's not necessary, you scared them enough today…"
"Not negotiable," he snapped, starting the car again. "We're going to my place. I'll put ice on that cheek. And then you're going to eat properly, because I'm sure those parasites stole your lunch."
She smiled faintly, nodding as she settled back into the seat.
Geum Seongje was a psychopath, violent, sadistic, and dangerous. But somehow, he was her savior. And as long as she was by his side, she knew perfectly well that never, ever again would anyone make her feel pathetic.
Hi> I love yours stories and wanted to request this since is thought it would be funny.
A sieun x reader story
The reader is sitting down with suho at lunch and he is teasing her about having a crush on sieun and ask what does she even see him and she goes off on a full tyrant telling him how much she loves sieun and how she finds him cute and she wishes she could just get down on her knees and marry him and keep him to herself when she gets done she looks at suho she notices he isn't looking at her but behind her when she looks back she sees sieun staring at her because he heard everything and she trys to act cool but ends up choking on her food and embarrassing herself.
CRUSH;ysn
Yeon Sieun x Fem!Reader.
N O T E : I'M BACK WITH THE THIRD-PERSON NARRATIVES, I HOPE THIS ONE IS MORE TO YOUR LIKING
The school cafeteria was always a noisy mess, with the sound of metal trays clattering against plastic tables, students shouting over the last pieces of cake, and the echo of conversations blending into a constant buzz that gave anyone a headache.
But she didn’t mind the noise. She was sitting at her usual table, trying to focus on her lunch. In front of her was Sooho, her best friend, devouring his second tray of food as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.
Sooho’s mouth was full of rice and meat, but that didn’t stop him from talking nonstop.
She stirred her soup with her chopsticks, distracted, her gaze drifting toward the cafeteria entrance every few seconds, searching for a particular figure.
A slightly shorter boy, with dark brown hair, slouched shoulders, and an expression that was always neutral. Yeon Sieun.
Sooho, who seemed focused only on his food, actually had the eyes of a hawk. He swallowed his bite, took a huge gulp of water, and slammed his cup down with a mocking grin.
“Your eyes are going to fall out if you keep staring at the door,” Sooho said, resting his chin on his hand. “Who are you waiting for so desperately? Santa Claus?”
She jumped in her seat, startled, her cheeks heating up. She quickly lowered her gaze to her soup.
“I wasn’t looking at the door,” she lied, trying to sound casual, though her voice came out higher than usual. “I was just thinking about… the history exam. Yeah. The history exam.”
Sooho burst out laughing, loud enough that a couple of students nearby turned to look.
“Please. You’re terrible at lying,” Sooho said, pointing his chopsticks at her face. “You’re waiting for Sieun. Again. Like every single day.”
“Shut up, Sooho!” she hissed, wide-eyed, panicking that someone might have overheard. “Don’t say it so loud.”
“Why not?” Sooho shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Everyone knows you’ve got that weird crush on him. It’s so obvious even the teachers notice. You turn red every time he breathes near you.”
“That’s not true. We’re friends. I see him as a friend,” she tried to defend herself, crossing her arms, though she knew it was a useless lie.
Sooho rolled his eyes, popped a sausage into his mouth, and kept going. Teasing her was his favorite pastime after eating and sleeping.
“Seriously, I don’t get it,” Sooho said, leaning forward with exaggerated confusion. “What exactly do you see in that guy?”
She frowned. “What do you mean, what do I see?”
“I mean it,” Sooho lowered his voice but kept his mocking tone. “It’s Yeon Sieun. He doesn’t talk unless he has to. He never smiles. He spends all day buried in physics or math books. He looks pale enough to have anemia, he’s short, and if the wind blows too hard, he might fall over… though yeah, we all know he hits like a maniac, but that’s not the point.”
“Don’t talk about him like that!” she snapped, indignation flaring in her chest.
“It’s the truth!” Sooho laughed at her protective reaction. “He has no sense of humor. If you tell him a joke, he looks at you like you’re a lab rat that escaped its cage. He doesn’t get hints. He doesn’t care about girls, video games, or junk food. He only cares about grades and sleep. Do you really like someone that boring?”
That was the limit.
She could handle Sooho mocking her feelings. She could handle him saying she was obvious. But she wasn’t going to let him insult Yeon Sieun.
She dropped her chopsticks onto her tray with a sharp clatter, pressed her palms flat against the table, and leaned forward, her eyes blazing. Sooho blinked, surprised.
Then she started talking. Or rather, she launched into a completely unhinged monologue.
“You don’t know anything, Ahn Sooho,” she said, her voice rising without her realizing, forgetting they were in the middle of a crowded cafeteria. “Yeon Sieun isn’t weird. And he’s not boring! He’s the most incredible, fascinating, perfect person in this stupid school.”
Sooho’s mouth fell open, unsure whether to laugh or be scared.
“What do I see in him? I see everything!” she went on, waving her hands, months of bottled-up feelings spilling out. “First of all, his face. Have you even looked at his face properly? He’s gorgeous! Those big dark eyes, always so focused, and when he looks at you, it feels like he can read your soul. His lashes are so long. He’s adorable! He looks like an angry kitten all the time, and that makes him a million times more attractive!”
Sooho raised his eyebrows, sipping his juice, enjoying the show.
“And it’s not just his face!” she kept going, breathless. “I love how he is. I love that he’s quiet, because when he talks, you know it matters. I love that he’s so smart. It’s sexy. Do you know how sexy it is to watch someone solve a three-line math equation without blinking? It’s too much for me!”
She clutched her chest dramatically, her cheeks blazing red.
“You say he doesn’t smile, but that’s not true. I’ve seen him smile. It’s tiny, almost invisible, just for a second, but when you catch it, it feels like winning the lottery. And he’s so protective. He has a huge, loyal heart hidden behind that serious face.”
Sooho set his cup down, his mocking grin fading. He wasn’t looking at her anymore.
But she didn’t notice. She was at the peak of her frenzy, adrenaline pushing her confession out loud.
“I like him,” she admitted, fists clenched. “I like him so much I feel like I’m going crazy. He’s so damn cute I want to wrap him in a blanket and hide him in my room so no one else can see him. I don’t want any other girl near him. Sometimes I wish I could drop to my knees in the hallway, pull out a candy ring from a vending machine, propose to him right there, and make him mine forever! I want to marry him, Sooho! I want him to be my husband!”
She exhaled in a huge sigh, finally empty. Relief washed over her.
She leaned back in her chair, breathing hard. “Wow… I needed to say that out loud.”
She looked at Sooho, expecting him to laugh hysterically, call her crazy, or send her to therapy.
But Sooho wasn’t laughing. He was frozen, eyes wide, mouth open, chopsticks dropped.
And he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was locked on the space behind her shoulder.
Confused, she waved a hand in front of his face. “Sooho? What’s wrong? Did I say something too weird? Okay, yeah, the kidnapping and marriage part sounded intense, but you know me, I exaggerate…”
Sooho swallowed hard, then pointed behind her. “You… you should turn around.”
Her heart stopped. Slowly, like in a horror movie, she turned her head.
And there he was.
Less than half a meter away, standing right behind her chair, holding a tray of food. Yeon Sieun.
His posture was the same as always, shoulders slightly hunched, uniform neat. But his face…
He was staring at her, eyes wider than usual, lips pressed tight. His knuckles were white around the tray.
And worst of all, the tips of his ears were bright red.
He had heard everything.
Every single word.
The silence stretched for what felt like centuries.
Her soul left her body. Her brain short-circuited. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.
She had to say something. Anything.
“H-hi, Sieun,” she squeaked, her voice like a terrified mouse.
Sieun blinked, glanced at his tray, then at Sooho—who was covering his mouth to keep from laughing—and finally back at her.
“Hi,” Sieun said, calm as always, though his ears betrayed him.
Act natural! her brain screamed.
She grabbed her chopsticks with trembling hands, picked up a big piece of kimbap, and shoved it into her mouth, planning to smile and pretend she’d been talking about an actor.
But panic betrayed her. The rice went down the wrong way.
She choked. Violently.
Coughing, clutching her throat, face turning purple.
Sooho jumped up. “Hey! Are you okay?!”
She couldn’t speak, tears streaming, pounding her chest.
Sooho slapped her back hard, nearly knocking her into her soup, but it worked. She gasped for air, wheezing, eyes watery.
“Drink water, idiot!” Sooho shoved a cup at her.
She gulped it down, coughing, alive but mortified.
“Just let me die,” she groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Please, Sooho, hit me with a tray and let me die here.”
Sooho, relieved she wasn’t choking anymore, burst into uncontrollable laughter, doubling over.
She stayed hidden in her hands while Sooho laughed like a maniac in the middle of the cafeteria.
Then she heard the sound of a tray being set down on the table, right in the empty seat beside her.
Sieun hadn’t left.
He sat down calmly in the chair next to hers, arranging his chopsticks and spoon.
She peeked through her fingers. Sieun was right there, sitting beside her. His expression had returned to its usual neutrality, but the faint red tint on his ears and cheeks hadn’t faded.
He pulled a napkin from the dispenser, slid it across the table toward her elbows without looking her in the eye.
“Wipe… your eyes,” Sieun said softly, his voice low and almost gentle.
She lowered her hands slowly. Her eyes were red and watery from coughing. She looked at the napkin, then at him.
Sieun kept his gaze on his food, stirring rice with his spoon. He looked uncomfortable, but not disgusted or horrified by her outburst.
“Th-thank you,” she whispered, taking the napkin and drying her face, feeling like the clumsiest person alive.
Sooho finally calmed down, wiping away a tear of laughter, and leaned on his hands with a mischievous grin.
“Well… now that we’ve avoided a tragedy, and all the cards are on the table… Sieun.”
Sieun stopped stirring. “What?”
“I was wondering… since you’re going to be my best friend’s future husband, when’s the wedding? Should I rent a suit?” Sooho teased mercilessly.
She kicked Sooho under the table, hard enough to make him grunt. “Shut up!” she hissed, her face burning again.
She glanced at Sieun, expecting him to get up and leave with his tray.
But Sieun didn’t leave.
He stayed quiet for a few seconds, took a bite of food, chewed slowly, swallowed, then looked at Sooho.
“There’s no date yet,” Sieun said, completely serious.
Sooho’s eyes widened, then he burst out laughing again, clapping his hands.
She froze, her heart racing wildly.
Sieun turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes. His gaze was intense, making her breath catch.
“Though…” he added quietly, almost just for her, “I guess you’d have to get the candy ring from the vending machine first, right?”
And there it was.
That tiny, almost invisible smile she had described in her monologue. It flickered across his lips for a second before disappearing, but she saw it clearly.
Her face turned redder than a ripe tomato. She had no words, no escape. She grabbed her water glass and hid behind it, sipping slowly while her heart leapt between joy and embarrassment.
Heyy so you know the character Choi hyun wook plays in DP? Anyway he’s basically in the army. So could you maybe write a smut for his character there?? Or to make it easier maybe write Suho who went to the army??
So it’s visit day and you (his gf) come to see him. And anyway yall just missed eachother so much and with the first chance yall got he pushed you into his room and well that’s where the smut starts😋
Maybe you even leave him a pic of yourself so he can “take care” of his needs while you’re away??👀👀
You don’t have to write it if you don’t want to but I’d be SO glad if you did🤧
VISIT TIME;ash
Ahn Suho x FemReader
N O T E : Another shot of Suho! This one was kind of weird to write because I had never imagined Suho as a soldier. I haven’t watch PD, but I liked how this turned out, so I hope you all do too!
You walked through the gates of the military base on visit day, heart pounding hard in your chest. It had been months since you last saw Suho.
Real months.
Letters and short calls weren't enough. You missed his voice, his laugh, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. The uniform he wore now made everything feel even more intense.
You spotted him waiting near the barracks, standing straight but his eyes lighting up the second he saw you.
He didn't waste time with long hellos. Suho grabbed your hand, pulling you along the path toward the rooms they let soldiers use for visits. His grip was tight, almost desperate. "Come on," he muttered, voice low. "I can't wait anymore."
You barely had time to catch your breath before he pushed open the door to his small room and tugged you inside. The second the door clicked shut, he had you against the wall. His mouth crashed into yours, hungry and rough like he'd been starving for this. His hands slid down your sides, grabbing your waist and pulling your body flush against his. You could feel how hard he already was through his uniform pants.
"Fuck, I missed you," he groaned between kisses. He didn't sound like the boy who left to serve his mandatory work. He sounded raw. His lips moved to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. The room was plain. Bed, desk, locker, but none of that mattered. All you cared about was him.
Suho's hands were everywhere. He tugged your shirt up, palms sliding over your skin like he needed to touch every inch. You helped him pull it off, then went for his uniform jacket. Buttons came undone fast. Underneath, his body was still toned from training, maybe even harder now. You ran your hands over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin.
He walked you backward until your legs hit the bed. "Lie down," he said, voice thick. You did, watching as he stripped off the rest of his top. His eyes stayed locked on you the whole time. When he climbed over you, the weight of him felt so good.
He kissed you again, slower this time but still deep, tongue sliding against yours while his hand slipped under your skirt.
"You're already wet," he whispered against your mouth. His fingers rubbed over your panties, pressing the fabric against your clit. You moaned, hips twitching up. He pushed the panties aside and slid one finger inside you, then two, pumping them slow and steady. "So tight… been thinking about this pussy every night."
You reached down and palmed him through his pants. He was rock hard, throbbing under your touch. Suho hissed, grinding against your hand. "Want you so bad," you breathed. He didn't need more encouragement.
He pulled his fingers out and stripped the rest of his clothes off fast. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, tip already leaking. You licked your lips without thinking. Suho noticed. He gave you a crooked smile. "Later. Right now I need to be inside you."
He shoved your skirt up around your waist and yanked your panties down your legs. No time for full undressing. He spread your thighs wide and lined himself up. The first push made you both groan. He sank in deep, stretching you open. "Shit… so good," he muttered, forehead pressed to yours.
Suho started thrusting, hard and fast like he couldn't hold back. The bed creaked under you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back. Every stroke hit deep, making sparks shoot through your body. His mouth found your tits, sucking on one nipple while he fucked you. You moaned louder, not caring if anyone outside might hear.
He flipped you over suddenly, pulling you up on all fours. His hand smacked your ass once, then he gripped your hips and slammed back in. This angle felt even deeper. You pushed back against him, meeting every thrust. "Harder," you gasped.
Suho growled and gave it to you. Skin slapped against skin. His hand reached around to rub your clit in quick circles. Your arms shook, pleasure building fast. "Gonna cum," you warned.
"Do it. Cum on my cock," he ordered, thrusting even faster.
You came hard, clenching around him, crying out his name. Suho fucked you through it, then pulled out and flipped you onto your back again. He stroked himself a few times, eyes dark. "Open your mouth."
"Love you," you whispered.
You did, and he came with a groan, thick ropes landing on your tongue and chest. He breathed heavy, looking down at you like he wanted to remember every second.
"Love you more," he answered,.
You lay tangled up after, sweaty and breathing hard. Suho traced patterns on your back with his fingers. "Don't wanna let you go," he said quietly.
The visit time was limited, but you had one more thing planned. Before you left, you pulled a small envelope from your bag and handed it to him. "For when I'm not here," you told him, cheeks a little warm.
He opened it. Inside was a Polaroid of you. Naked. On your bed at home, legs spread, one hand between your thighs, looking straight at the camera with that look you knew drove him crazy. On the back you'd written: "Think of me when you need relief. I'll be waiting for the real thing."
Suho's eyes darkened again. He tucked it carefully into his locker. "Fuck… this is gonna get used a lot." He pulled you in for one last deep kiss before you had to leave. "Next visit, I'm not letting you out of this room easy."
For several weeks now, I've been receiving messages asking me if I've changed the way I write, or if I use AI. THE ANSWER IS NO.
I don't use AI, I never have, however I want to think that the reason you say that is because I've switched to writing from third to first person.
It's not something you're used to from me and I understand you, too, I thought that making them shorter would be more beneficial (mostly because of my time) but I think those changes haven't seemed like to you. AND THAT'S OKAY.
I thank you for being so honest with me and I'm glad to hear that you read my stories, I would never consider a "you have used AI" as an insult, more as a form of constructive criticism, I understand if you don't like it, the changes I made were not well accepted and that's okay, don't worry, I will go back to writing like I used to do before.
do you update every 3 days on wattpad too, or is it just on here? love you, your writing is amazing
HI HI! My one-shots book from Wattpad is paused at the moment, but I usually update twice a week (my fanfics too), mostly on weekends, and here I publish every 2 or 3 days if I have enough material to give you guys!
omg im soo sorry if my question came off as rude 😭😭 i was genuinely just asking. your writing is beautiful and i didn’t realise at the time how mean i sounded pls continue however works best for you 🤍🤍 im so sorry !!!
No worries, it wasn't rude at all; I just wanted to practice a little bit. Thank you for reading my stories; have an incredible day or night!!
Where Riku just want to spend time with her after practice...
Warnings: none.
Riku walks into the small practice room studio a little after 9 PM, the door clicking softly behind him. His hair is still a bit messy from the long day of schedules, dyed a soft light brown that catches the warm overhead lights.
He’s wearing a loose oversized hoodie and comfortable sweatpants, the kind he always changes into when he wants to feel normal again. In his hands he carries two convenience store bags, the plastic rustling quietly as he steps closer to where you’re sitting on the couch near the mirrored wall.
You look up from your phone, surprised but smiling. You work part-time helping with NCT WISH’s fan cafe coordination and sometimes stay late to organize small gifts or messages for the members. Tonight you stayed because Riku texted earlier saying he might drop by after practice if you were still around.
“Hey,” he says, voice gentle and a little shy. His Japanese accent wraps softly around the word. He lifts the bags a bit. “I brought snacks. Strawberry milk for you… and some onigiri and those chocolate cookies you liked last time.”
Your heart does a small flip at how thoughtful he is. “You didn’t have to, Riku. You must be tired after today.”
He shakes his head, sitting down beside you on the couch. The cushion dips under his weight and his shoulder brushes yours lightly. “I wanted to. Today was long but… thinking about seeing you made it easier.”
He says it simply, no big dramatic flair, just honest. His cheeks have a faint pink tint under the studio lights. You take the strawberry milk he offers, your fingers touching his for a second longer than necessary. The cold can feels nice against your warm skin.
For a while you both just sit together, eating quietly. The studio is empty except for the two of you. Soft background music plays from a small speaker he turned on. Riku keeps glancing at you between bites, his eyes soft.
“You worked late again,” he says after finishing one onigiri. He reaches over and gently brushes a small crumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. The touch is feather-light and makes your face warm. “Thank you for always helping with the fan cafe stuff. I know it’s extra work.”
“It’s fun,” you reply. “Especially when I get to see you guys happy with the messages.”
Riku smiles, the kind of smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. He shifts closer until your thighs are touching. Then, a little hesitantly, he rests his head on your shoulder. His hair tickles your neck, and he smells like shampoo mixed with a faint sweat scent.
“Can I stay like this for a bit?” he asks quietly. “Just… us.”
You nod and lean your head against his. “Of course.”
His hand finds yours on the couch, fingers slowly interlacing. His palm is warm, a little calloused from dance practice, but the way he holds your hand is so careful and gentle. He squeezes once, then rubs his thumb in small circles over your skin. The simple touch sends soft butterflies through your chest.
After a few minutes he lifts his head, turning to look at you. His face is close now. You can see the tiny freckles across his nose and the way his lashes are long and dark. “You’re really pretty tonight,” he murmurs. Then he catches himself and laughs softly, embarrassed. “I mean… you always are. But especially right now.”
You smile and squeeze his hand back. Riku leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you want. You don’t. His lips meet yours in a soft, sweet kiss. It’s gentle, almost careful, like he’s still a little nervous even after a few weeks of these secret moments. His lips are warm and taste faintly of the chocolate from the cookies.
He pulls back just a little, forehead resting against yours. “Um… was that okay?” he whispers.
“More than okay,” you answer.
That seems to give him confidence. He kisses you again, still soft but lingering longer this time. One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking gently along your skin. The kiss stays cute and tender, no rush, just the warm press of lips and the occasional shy tilt of heads. When he pulls away, he’s smiling that bright, boyish smile that makes your stomach flutter.
Riku shifts so he can pull you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You settle against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart through the hoodie. His free hand plays with your fingers, tracing small patterns.
“Today during practice I kept messing up one part of the choreography,” he confesses quietly, voice rumbling under your ear. “Because I was thinking about how I wanted to see you after. Sion kept teasing me.”
You laugh lightly. “Poor Sion. You should focus more.”
“But I like thinking about you,” he says, completely sincere. He kisses the top of your head. “It makes me feel happy even when I’m tired.”
You tilt your head up to look at him. His eyes are warm, full of that gentle affection he always shows when it’s just the two of you. You reach up and brush his hair back from his forehead. He leans into your touch like a cat wanting more pets, eyes half-closing in contentment.
For a long while you stay cuddled together on the couch. Riku tells you small things about his day, how the new song is coming along, how excited he is for the next fan meeting, how much he misses simple days like this. You share your own stories, and he listens carefully, nodding along and humming softly in agreement.
At one point he sits up a little and pulls something from one of the bags, a small plush keychain of a tiny cartoon bear. “I saw this earlier and thought it looked like you,” he says, cheeks pink again. “Soft and cute. So… I got it for you.”
You take the keychain, heart melting at how shy he looks presenting it. “Riku… thank you. It's so cute”. You attach it immediately to your bag so he can see.
He beams, clearly happy you like it. Then he leans in and gives you another kiss, this one a little deeper but still sweet. His lips move gently against yours, one hand resting on your waist while the other stays holding your hand. When he pulls back, he nuzzles his nose against yours in a cute eskimo kiss that makes you both giggle.
“You make me feel normal,” he whispers. “Not like an idol… just Riku.”
You cup his face with both hands and kiss his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “You are just Riku to me. And I really like him.”
His arms wrap around you fully then, pulling you into a warm hug. You bury your face in his hoodie, breathing in his scent. He rubs your back in slow, soothing strokes. The music from the speaker switches to an even softer melody, filling the studio with gentle notes.
Riku starts humming along quietly, his voice smooth and comforting right next to your ear. After a minute he sings the words very softly, just for you. His Japanese and English mix in that charming way he has, and the sound vibrates through his chest into yours. You feel completely safe and cared for in his arms.
Time passes slowly like that. Soft kisses exchanged every few minutes, on lips, cheeks, forehead. Gentle touches: his fingers in your hair, your hand on his chest feeling his heartbeat, his palm resting on your lower back. Nothing rushed. Just warm, cute affection filling the quiet studio.
Eventually he checks his phone and sighs. “I should probably get back soon. Managers will wonder where I am if I stay too late.”
You nod, understanding. He helps you stand up, then pulls you into one last long hug. His chin rests on top of your head for a moment.
“Text me when you get home safe?” he asks.
“I will. And you rest well, okay? No more thinking about choreography mistakes.”
He laughs softly. “Promise. Only thinking about you now.”
Before leaving, he kisses you one more time at the studio door. This kiss is a little longer, full of that sweet passion he keeps gentle just for you. His hands hold your waist, yours rest on his shoulders. When he pulls away, his eyes are sparkling.
“Goodnight,” he says, voice warm.
“Goodnight, Riku.”
He waits until you gather your things, then walks you to the elevator even though it’s only a short distance. One final quick kiss on your forehead before the doors close.
On the way home you keep touching the little bear keychain, smiling to yourself. Your phone lights up with a message from him already: “I’m smiling the whole way back because of you. See you soon ♡”
The night feels softer and warmer knowing Riku is thinking of you too.
Heyy could I request a Suho smut?? Its could be anything but maybe if you could write something like shower sex?? Or fuck it just smut in general🥀
SHOWER SEX;ash
Ahn Suho x reader
Warnings: Explicit sexual content. unprotected sex.
NOTE: It's a little bit short, sorry, but i hope you like it!
I stepped into the apartment, kicking off my shoes and dropping my bag by the door. My shoulders were killing me from the long day, and all I could think about was a hot shower and crashing into bed.
Suho was already home, I could hear the TV on low in the living room.
"Babe?" I called out, peeling off my jacket.
"In here," he answered. His voice was relaxed, a little tired too. I walked in and saw him on the couch in just sweatpants, no shirt, hair still messy from work. He looked up and smiled that soft smile that always made my stomach flip. "You look wiped."
"I am. Gonna shower real quick." I headed toward the bathroom, already pulling my shirt over my head.
The door clicked behind me, but before I could turn the water on, Suho pushed it open and slipped inside. "Mind if I join? I could use one too."
My heart picked up. We'd showered together before, but something about the way he was looking at me tonight felt different. Hungrier. I nodded, trying to play it cool even though my cheeks were already warm. "Yeah, sure."
He stepped closer while I finished undressing, his hands sliding around my waist from behind. His chest pressed against my back, warm skin on warm skin.
I could feel him already getting hard through his sweatpants. "Missed you all day," he murmured against my neck, kissing it lightly.
I turned around and kissed him properly, our mouths fitting together easy and familiar. His tongue slipped in, slow at first, then deeper. My hands ran up his chest, feeling the lean muscle for all that hard work he does.
Suho groaned quietly into my mouth when I tugged at his waistband. He helped me push his pants down, kicking them aside. We were both naked now, standing in the middle of the bathroom with the shower running hot, steam starting to fill the air.
"Get in," he said, voice a little rough.
I stepped under the spray first. The hot water felt so good on my sore muscles. Suho followed right after, closing the glass door behind him. Water cascaded over both of us, making his hair stick to his forehead. He looked ridiculously hot like this, wet, eyes dark, lips parted.
He grabbed the body wash and squeezed some into his hands, rubbing them together. "Turn around."
I did, facing the tile wall. His soapy hands started on my shoulders, massaging the tension away in firm circles. It felt amazing. He worked down my back, thumbs pressing along my spine. Then lower, cupping my ass, squeezing gently. I bit my lip when his fingers slipped between my cheeks, teasing.
"Suho..." I breathed.
"Relax," he whispered, kissing my shoulder blade. His hands moved around to my front, soaping up my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers until they were hard and sensitive. I leaned back against him, feeling his cock press against my lower back, fully hard now. He was thick and warm, twitching every time I moved.
I reached behind me and wrapped my hand around him, stroking slowly. The water made everything slick. Suho groaned, hips pushing forward into my grip. "Fuck, that feels good."
He rinsed the soap off me and spun me around, kissing me harder this time. Water poured over our faces but we didn't care. His hand slid down between my legs, fingers finding my clit right away. He rubbed in slow circles, then dipped lower, pushing one finger inside me. I was already wet, and not just from the shower.
"Always so ready for me," he muttered against my lips. He added a second finger, curling them just right. My knees felt weak. I held onto his shoulders, moaning into his mouth while he fingered me deep and steady.
I wanted more. I dropped down to my knees on the shower floor, the water beating on my back. Suho's cock was right in front of my face, flushed and leaking a little at the tip. I looked up at him as I took him in my mouth, sucking on the head first. He tasted clean from the water, skin hot. I bobbed my head, taking more of him each time, using my hand on what I couldn't fit.
"Shit, baby..." His hand went to my wet hair, not pushing, just holding. His thighs tensed every time I swirled my tongue around him. I loved how he sounded, breathy moans and quiet curses. I sucked harder, hollowing my cheeks, until he gently pulled me off.
"Stand up. I need to be inside you."
He turned me toward the wall again, hands on my hips. I braced myself, arching my back. Suho rubbed his cock against my pussy from behind, sliding it up and down, teasing my clit. Then he pushed in, slow at first, stretching me open. We both moaned at the same time. He felt so big like this, filling me completely.
"Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, bottoming out. He stayed still for a second, letting me adjust, kissing the back of my neck. Then he started moving, long, deep thrusts that made my tits bounce with each one. The sound of wet skin slapping mixed with the shower spray.
I pushed back against him, meeting every thrust. One of his hands reached around to play with my clit again, rubbing fast circles while he fucked me harder. My moans got louder, echoing off the tiles. "Suho... agh... right there..."
"Yeah? Like that?" He angled his hips and hit that perfect spot inside me. My legs started shaking. He wrapped an arm around my waist to hold me up, pounding into me steadily. Water ran down our bodies, making everything hotter and slipperier.
I came first, clenching around him hard, crying out his name. It hit me in waves, pussy pulsing. Suho kept going, fucking me through it, his breath ragged against my ear. "Good girl... so good."
He pulled out after a minute, turning me around to face him. "Leg up," he said, lifting my thigh. I hooked it around his hip. He slid back inside in one smooth thrust, deeper this way.
We were pressed chest to chest, kissing messily while he fucked me against the wall. My back kept hitting the tiles but it didn't hurt, it just grounded me while pleasure built again.
His pace got faster, more desperate. I could tell he was close. I clenched around him on purpose and he cursed, burying his face in my neck. "I'm gonna cum... where do you want it?"
"Inside," I gasped. "Please."
A few more hard thrusts and he groaned loud, hips stuttering as he came deep inside me. I felt every pulse, warm and full. He kept moving slowly through it, milking it out, until we were both breathing heavy.
We stayed like that for a bit, water still running, his cock softening inside me. Suho kissed me softly now, gentle and sweet. "You okay?"
"Mm-hmm. Really okay." I smiled, legs still shaky.
He pulled out carefully and grabbed the showerhead to rinse us both off. His hands were soft again, cleaning between my legs where his cum was starting to drip out mixed with the water. We laughed a little when I almost slipped, him catching me around the waist.
After we dried off, he carried me to the bed even though I said I could walk. We collapsed under the covers, naked and warm, my head on his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my back.
"Shower was a good idea," I mumbled, already sleepy.
Suho chuckled. "Anytime you want round two, just say the word."
I am in love with your stories they are so well written ( 〃▽〃).
I was inspired by better days because I am watching it right now.
Sieun x transgender fem reader
Sieun is always looking out for since she does get bullied for being transgender she also really quit and they grow up together they have a crush on each other but she is to scared to acknowledge it
Sieun always walks her home from school but at a distance just watching her he does this everyday maybe one day he late to walk her home and watch over her since he had to talk to a teacher and by the time the teacher let him go she is already gone and walking home so he starts walking to her house just to make sure she got home safely and in a alleyway a few blocks from her house he sees her getting beat up she has a busted lip and a bruise on her forehead and her hair cut it was already short it's just messed up and uneven and he steps in immediately and he starts get beat up badly and she tries to help by pushing one of them off of him but that just end up with her getting hit.
And sieun covering her so only her gets hurt after a while they leave and sieun immediately starts checking her over asking if she is okay and she starts crying and hitting his chest asking why he would do that he got hurt she hates seeing him hurt while he just apologizes and tries to smooth out her hair she pushes him off her and get up and starts walking to her house while sieun got her stuff and followed her they get to her house and she goes in the leaves the door open for him and he goes in and heads to the bathroom to get the first aid kit and sits on the floor cleaning his head when.
She comes back in and sits on the floor with him and starts cleaning his face after a while and stops and says thank then kisses him a very soft and sweet kiss.
Sorry of this is way to long please take your time
That was what he told himself when he felt her eyes on him from across the classroom. When he caught her standing at the end of the hallway, pretending to read a notice board, waiting for him to finish whatever conversation he was trapped in. When she walked home and didn't look back because she knew he was there. Fifteen feet behind her. Never closer. Never farther.
She thought he didn't notice.
He noticed everything about her.
He noticed the way she looked at the ground when someone said something cruel. The way her shoulders curved inward like she was trying to take up less space. The way she didn't fight back, not because she was weak, but because she had learned that fighting only made it worse.
They grew up together. That was the strange part. He remembered her before. Before the world taught her to be quiet. She used to laugh so loud that her whole body shook. She used to grab his hand without asking and drag him places he didn't want to go. She used to be the loud one and he was the quiet one and that was just how it worked.
Then things changed.
Or maybe she changed. Or maybe the world changed around her and she had to shrink to fit inside it.
Sieun didn't know exactly when she stopped being the person who grabbed his hand. He just knew that one day, he looked at her and she was different. Softer in some ways. Harder in others.
She still smiled, but it was smaller. She still laughed, but it was quieter. She still walked with him every day, but from a distance now. Like she was afraid to stand next to him.
Like she was afraid someone would see them together and know something about her that she wasn't ready to share.
The bullying started in middle school.
Sieun remembered the first time he saw it. A group of boys in the courtyard, standing in a loose circle around her. They were laughing. She was not. Her face was pale and her hands were shaking and she was staring at the ground like she could make herself disappear if she tried hard enough.
He wanted to run over. He wanted to scream at them. He wanted to grab her hand and pull her away and never let go.
But she had told him, weeks before, in a voice so small he almost didn't hear it: "Don't. Please. If you try to help, they'll just do it more."
So he didn't.
He stood at the edge of the courtyard and he watched. And he hated himself for it. And he hated them. And he hated the world for making her feel like she had to face it alone.
After that, he started walking her home. Every day. No exceptions.
She never asked him to. He never offered. It just happened. One day he was walking in her direction and she was walking in his and they ended up side by side. The next day, he was waiting by the gate. The day after that, she was waiting for him.
They never talked about it. That was their way. They didn't talk about the important things. They talked about homework and teachers and the weather. They talked about everything except the things that actually mattered.
Sieun walked her home. She let him. And somewhere in between the school gate and her front door, he fell in love with her.
He didn't admit it to himself for a long time. He told himself it was just friendship. Just concern. Just the natural result of growing up next to someone, of knowing her face better than his own, of being able to predict her moods by the way she held her shoulders.
But then he would catch himself staring at her mouth. At the way her hair fell across her forehead. At the sound of her laugh, that smaller, quieter version of the laugh he remembered from childhood. And he would feel something in his chest that he couldn't name.
He still couldn't name it. Not out loud. Not to her.
So he kept his distance. Fifteen feet. Always fifteen feet.
The day it happened started like any other day.
Sieun was waiting for her by the gate. She came out a few minutes late, her backpack hanging off one shoulder, her eyes fixed on the ground. She didn't look up when she reached him. She never did anymore.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey."
They started walking. Not together. She walked ahead. He walked behind. Fifteen feet. The usual.
He watched the back of her head. Her hair was short, the way she liked it. She had told him once that short hair made her feel more like herself. He had nodded and pretended to understand, even though he didn't fully. Not because he didn't want to. Because he didn't know how to say that he saw her. The real her. The one underneath the fear and the silence and the careful way she moved through the world.
He saw her. And he loved her. And he was too scared to do anything about it.
They were halfway to her house when a teacher called his name.
"Sieun! Can you come here for a moment?"
He stopped. Looked at her back. She kept walking.
"Go ahead," she said without turning around. "I'll be fine."
He hesitated. The teacher called his name again. Impatient this time.
"I'll catch up," he said.
She didn't respond. She just kept walking, her shoulders hunched, her bag swinging. He watched her for a moment longer. Then he turned and walked toward the teacher.
It was a stupid meeting. Something about a form he had forgotten to sign. Something about a permission slip that was due tomorrow. He stood there, nodding, saying "yes, sir" and "no, sir" and "I'll bring it tomorrow, sir." All the while, his eyes kept drifting to the gate. To the street beyond. To the place where she had disappeared.
When the teacher finally let him go, twenty minutes had passed.
Twenty minutes.
Sieun walked fast at first. Then faster. Then he was almost running, his heart pounding in his chest for reasons he didn't want to examine too closely.
She's fine, he told himself. She's walked home alone before. She's fine.
But he didn't believe it.
He turned the corner onto her street. Her house was at the end, a small building with blue shutters and a garden that her mother tended on weekends. He could see it from where he stood.
She wasn't there.
She should have been there. She walked fast, but not that fast. Not twenty-minutes-fast. Not unless she had hurried. And she never hurried. She walked slowly, like she was trying to make the journey last as long as possible.
Sieun turned around. Started walking back the way he came. Maybe she had stopped somewhere. Maybe she had run into a friend. Maybe she had forgotten something at school and gone back.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
He found her in the alleyway.
It was three blocks from her house. A narrow gap between two buildings, the kind of place that was dark even in the middle of the day. The kind of place where people went when they didn't want to be seen.
He almost walked past it. He almost didn't look.
But something made him turn his head. Something made him stop. Something made him look into the shadows and see her.
She was on the ground. On her knees. There were three of them. Boys. Older than them. Their faces were blurred in his memory because he wasn't looking at their faces. He was looking at her.
Her lip was split. Blood ran down her chin in a thin line, dripping onto her shirt. There was a bruise forming on her forehead, purple and ugly, right above her left eye. And her hair—
Her hair was cut.
It had been short before. Neat. The way she liked it. Now it was a mess. Uneven. Chunks missing. Someone had taken something sharp to it, scissors or maybe a knife, and hacked at it while she tried to protect her face.
She wasn't fighting anymore. She was just sitting there, her hands over her head, her body shaking. One of the boys was saying something. Sieun couldn't hear the words. He didn't need to. He could see them in the way she flinched, the way she curled into herself, the way she tried to become small enough to disappear.
Sieun didn't remember deciding to move.
He just remembered running.
He hit the first boy before the boy saw him coming. His fist connected with the boy's jaw and the boy staggered back, surprised more than hurt. The second boy turned. The third boy laughed.
"Look," the third boy said. "She brought a friend."
Sieun didn't care what they called him. He didn't care what they called her. He just wanted them to stop. He wanted them to stop and he wanted to get her out of there and he wanted to go back in time and never leave her side.
The second boy hit him in the stomach. Sieun doubled over, the air rushing out of his lungs. The first boy, recovered now, hit him in the face. He felt his cheek split open. Felt the warm rush of blood.
"Sieun—" Her voice. Small. Terrified.
"Stay back," he tried to say. But the words came out wrong. Muffled. Full of blood.
The third boy kicked his legs out from under him. Sieun hit the ground hard. His elbow cracked against the pavement. Something in his wrist made a sound he didn't like.
They were on him then. All three of them. Kicking. Punching. Laughing. He curled up the way she had been curled up, his arms over his head, trying to protect the important parts.
And then he felt her.
Her hands on his shoulders. Trying to pull him up. Trying to push one of the boys away.
"No," he said. "No, don't—"
She didn't listen. She never listened. She grabbed the arm of the boy who was hitting him and tried to pull him off. The boy turned. His fist connected with her face. The same face that was already bruised and bleeding and broken.
Sieun saw red.
Not metaphorically. Literally. The world went red around the edges. He lunged forward, grabbing the boy by the collar, pulling him away from her. He didn't remember what he said. He didn't remember what he did. He just remembered that he was between her and them. His body covering hers. His arms wrapped around her. His back taking every hit they had to give.
The boys got bored eventually. They always did. Bullies didn't have stamina. They had cruelty, but cruelty burned out fast when the person they were hurting stopped reacting.
They left. Their footsteps faded. Their laughter echoed off the brick walls and then there was silence.
Sieun stayed on top of her for a moment longer. His body was screaming. His face was wet. His wrist was definitely broken.
But she was underneath him. And she was breathing. And that was all that mattered.
"Sieun." Her voice was shaking. "Sieun, get off. You're hurt."
He pushed himself up. Slowly. Carefully. His arms trembled under his weight. He sat back on his heels and looked at her.
She looked worse than him. Her lip was still bleeding. The bruise on her forehead had darkened to a deep, ugly purple. Her hair...
Her hair was everywhere. Uneven clumps. Some long, some short. She reached up and touched it and her hand came away with strands of black.
"Don't," he said. His voice came out rough. "Don't look at it right now."
She looked at him instead. Her eyes were wide. Wet. Her chin quivered.
"Why did you do that?" she asked.
He didn't understand the question. "What?"
"Why did you do that?" Louder now. Her voice cracked. "Why did you jump in? Why did you let them hit you? Why did you--"
She stopped. Her face crumpled. And then she was crying. Not quiet tears. Not the kind she cried when she thought no one was watching. Loud, messy, ugly crying. The kind that came from somewhere deep and broken.
She hit his chest. Not hard. She was too weak for hard. But she hit him anyway, her small fists thumping against his bruised ribs, and each hit hurt more than the ones from the boys.
"I hate you," she sobbed. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. You got hurt. You got hurt because of me. I hate seeing you hurt. I hate it. I hate it."
Sieun didn't say anything. He couldn't. There were no words for this. No words for the way his chest ached, not from the beating but from the sound of her voice. From the way she said his name like it was a wound.
She kept hitting him. Kept crying. Kept saying she hated him.
And then she stopped.
Her hands were still on his chest. Her face was wet. Her eyes were red. She looked at him like she was seeing him for the first time.
"I'm sorry," he said. It was the only thing he could think of. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I let the teacher stop me. I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner. I'm sorry they hurt you. I'm sorry they cut your hair. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
She stared at him.
Then she reached up. Her fingers touched his cheek, right below the cut. He flinched. She didn't pull away.
"You're bleeding," she said.
"I know."
"You have a cut on your head."
"I know."
"Your wrist looks wrong."
"I know."
She lowered her hand. Then she reached up again and touched his hair. Pushed it out of his eyes. Her fingers were shaking.
"You're an idiot," she said.
"I know."
She almost smiled. Almost. The corner of her mouth twitched and then stopped because moving her lip hurt.
"We should go to your house," he said. "Your mom can--"
"No." She said it fast. Too fast. "No, not my house. She can't see me like this. She'll ask questions. She'll want to call the school. She'll--" She stopped. Swallowed. "She'll look at me and she'll know. She always knows. And I can't—I can't deal with that right now."
"Your house," Sieun said. "We'll go to my house."
She looked at him. "Your parents—"
"Won't be home until late."
She nodded. Slowly. Carefully. Like moving her head hurt.
Sieun stood up. The world tilted. He grabbed the wall to steady himself. His wrist screamed. He ignored it.
He held out his good hand. She looked at it. Then she looked at him.
"Can you stand?" he asked.
She tried. She made it to her knees before she stumbled. He caught her. Pulled her up. She leaned against him, her weight warm and solid and terrifying.
"I've got you," he said.
She didn't say anything. But she didn't pull away either.
He picked up her bag. And his. And then they walked. Slow. Careful. Leaning on each other.
Fifteen feet apart had never felt so far.
Sieun's house was small. Quiet. The kind of house where nothing ever happened.
He unlocked the door with his good hand. She stood behind him, close enough that he could feel her breath on his neck. The door swung open. The hallway was dark. Empty.
"Bathroom," she said. "First."
He led her there. Turned on the light. The fluorescent bulb hummed and flickered and then settled into a sickly yellow glow.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face went pale.
"I'll get the first aid kit," he said.
He left her there. Walked to the linen closet. Pulled out the white plastic box with the red cross on the front. His wrist throbbed with every step.
When he came back, she was sitting on the bathroom floor. Her back against the wall. Her knees pulled up to her chest. She wasn't crying anymore. Her face was blank.
Sieun sat down across from her. Opened the kit. Pulled out the antiseptic wipes and the gauze and the tape.
"Let me see your head," he said.
She looked at him. "You first."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. Your face is covered in blood."
"It's not my blood."
"It's your face."
They stared at each other. The fluorescent light hummed.
"You first," she said again. Quieter this time. "Please."
Sieun couldn't say no to her. He had never been able to say no to her.
He leaned forward. She took a wipe from the kit. Her hands were still shaking, but she was careful. Gentle. She leaned in close and touched the wipe to his cheek.
He hissed.
"Sorry," she whispered.
"Don't be."
She cleaned the cut on his cheek. Then the one on his forehead. Then the one on his lip. Her fingers brushed his skin like he was something fragile. Something precious.
He watched her face while she worked. The concentration in her eyes. The way her brow furrowed. The way her split lip parted slightly when she breathed.
"You're staring," she said.
"Observing."
"That's the same thing."
"No it's not."
She almost smiled again. Almost.
She finished his face and moved to his hands. When she got to his wrist, she stopped.
"This is bad," she said.
"I know."
"We need to get you to a hospital."
"Later."
"Sieun--"
"Later." He said it firmly. "First, you."
She looked at him. Her eyes were wet again. But she didn't argue.
She handed him the wipe. He took it. Their fingers touched. Neither of them pulled away.
Sieun leaned forward. She sat still. Let him work.
He cleaned the blood off her lip first. She winced. He whispered an apology. She shook her head.
"Keep going," she said.
He cleaned the cut above her eye. The bruise on her forehead. The scratches on her neck. He was careful. Slower than she had been. He wanted to memorize every inch of her face. Every mark. Every wound. Every place where the world had tried to break her.
When he finished, he sat back. Her face was clean now. The blood was gone. But the bruises remained. The cuts. The evidence.
Her hair was still a mess. Uneven. Hacked. He reached out without thinking and touched it. Ran his fingers through the short strands. Tried to smooth it down.
She flinched.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
She grabbed his hand. Stopped him from pulling away.
"Don't," she said. "Don't apologize. Just—" She took a breath. Let it out slow. "Just keep doing that."
He did. He ran his fingers through her hair. Tried to make it lie flat. Tried to make it look like it had before. It didn't work. The damage was too bad. But she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch and that was enough.
They sat there for a long time. The fluorescent light hummed. The house was silent. His wrist throbbed. Her lip bled a little, a fresh drop of red welling up from the cut.
"Why do you walk me home every day?" she asked.
The question came out of nowhere. Soft. Almost sleepy.
Sieun stopped moving his hand.
"What?"
"You heard me." She opened her eyes. Looked at him. "Why do you walk me home? Every day. Fifteen feet behind me. You never miss a day. Even when it's raining. Even when you're sick. Even when you have better things to do. Why?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
"Sieun."
"I don't know," he lied.
She looked at him. Her eyes were tired. Bruised. But they were also sharp. Sharper than he had ever seen them.
"You're a terrible liar," she said.
"I'm not lying."
"You are. You're lying right now. You've been lying for years."
His heart stopped. Then it started again, too fast.
"What do you mean?" he asked. His voice came out strange. High.
She didn't answer. She just looked at him. And in her eyes, he saw something he had never seen before. Something that looked like hope. Something that looked like fear. Something that looked like both at the same time.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For today. For every day. For walking me home even when I didn't ask. For jumping in front of those boys. For getting hurt because of me." She paused. Swallowed. "For seeing me."
"I always see you," he said.
"I know." Her voice cracked. "That's the problem."
Sieun didn't understand. He didn't understand anything anymore. The world had narrowed to this bathroom, this floor, this space between them.
She leaned forward.
He didn't move.
Her face came closer. Close enough that he could see the individual lashes around her eyes. Close enough that he could feel her breath on his lips. Close enough that the cut on her lip was right there, right in front of him, still beaded with red.
"Thank you," she whispered.
And then she kissed him.
It was soft. So soft. Barely a press of lips against lips. She was careful, mindful of her split lip and his cut cheek. She didn't rush. She didn't push. She just kissed him like she had all the time in the world and she wanted to spend every second of it right here.
Sieun kissed her back.
He didn't think. He didn't plan. He just leaned into her and let his eyes fall closed and kissed her like she was the answer to a question he had been asking his whole life.
When she pulled back, her eyes were wet again. But she was smiling. A real smile. The first real smile he had seen from her in years.
"I've wanted to do that for so long," she said.
"Why didn't you?"
She laughed. It was small and broken and perfect. "Because I was scared."
"Of what?"
"Of you saying no. Of you not feeling the same way. Of ruining everything." She reached up and touched his face. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw. "Of losing you."
"You're not going to lose me."
"You don't know that."
"I do." He took her hand. Held it against his cheek. "I know because I've been walking fifteen feet behind you for years and I've never once wanted to be anywhere else."
She stared at him. Her lip trembled.
"Idiot," she whispered.
"Your idiot," he said.
She kissed him again. Harder this time. Less careful. Her split lip opened and he tasted blood and neither of them cared.
When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathing hard. Her face was flushed. His was too, probably. The bathroom was too small and too bright and too full of everything they had been too scared to say.
"We should probably get you to a hospital," she said. "Your wrist looks really bad."
"Yeah," he said. "Probably."
Neither of them moved.
"Later," she said.
"Later," he agreed.
She leaned her head against his shoulder. He rested his cheek on top of her head. Her hair was uneven and messy and perfect.
"Sieun?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you were late today."
He closed his eyes. "I'm not."
"No," she said softly. "I know. But I am. Because if you hadn't been late, I wouldn't have kissed you. And I've been wanting to kiss you for years."
Sieun didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. So he just sat there, on the bathroom floor, with her pressed against his side and his wrist throbbing and his face bleeding and the fluorescent light humming above them.
And for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.
The music from the collab stage was still echoing as the lights dimmed. You were breathing hard, smiling for the cameras, but your long stage dress had gotten tangled on a prop at the very end.
The hem was stuck, and the more you tried to move, the worse it got. You felt your face heat up under the makeup, praying you wouldn’t trip in front of everyone.
Then a hand reached out. Ryul, the hoobae from the new boy group, stepped in smoothly. He debuted just last year, while you’d been in the industry for five years. He crouched a bit, took your hand to keep you steady, and used his free hand to carefully pull the fabric free. His fingers brushed your ankle as he fixed the skirt so it wouldn’t ride up. Quick, professional, but gentle.
“Thanks, hoobae,” you whispered with a small laugh, keeping your stage face on.
Ryul gave your hand one last light squeeze before letting go and turning back to wave at the crowd like nothing happened. The fans screamed louder. A lot of them had definitely caught the moment.
Backstage was loud and messy. Your members surrounded you immediately. “Unnie, Ryul just helped you like a total gentleman!” one teased. Your manager looked stressed. “That’s going to be all over the internet in ten minutes.”
You shrugged it off at first. “It was just the dress. He was being nice.”
But the clips spread fast.
“RYUL HELPS HIS SUNBAE WITH HER DRESS 💕”
“Hand holding on stage!!”
“Protective hoobae moment with ____.”
Comments were everywhere, some calling it cute, some already starting dating rumors. Dispatch hadn’t jumped on it yet, but the fandoms were loud.
Later that night in your dorm, your phone lit up with a new message from an unknown number.
Unknown: Hi sunbae, it’s Ryul. Got your number from the staff list. Sorry if I made things awkward out there. Hope your dress is okay now.
You smiled a little and replied.
"It’s fine. Thanks for the save. I would’ve fallen on my face otherwise lol. Don’t worry about the rumors".
Ryul: Okay good. My members are already teasing me nonstop. Let me know if your company needs any statement or something.
The texting started small. He was respectful, always calling you sunbae even in messages. You’d run into each other a few times before at music shows, he was the quiet but hardworking type who greeted seniors politely.
You had once given him quick advice on how to control nerves before a live stage when he looked especially tense. He’d thanked you with a bow so deep it made you laugh.
Now the scandal made everything feel different.
A few days later you saw him at a broadcast building. You were waiting in the hallway for your turn on a radio show when Ryul walked by with his manager. He stopped and bowed properly. “Hello, sunbae.”
You nodded, keeping it professional in front of others. “Hey. How’s practice going?”
“Tiring but good,” he said, glancing at you with a small shy smile. His ears were a little red. When his manager stepped away for a call, Ryul lowered his voice. “The clips are still trending. My fans keep sending me edits. Some of them are… really edited.”
You laughed softly. “Mine too. They’re saying their oppa is so caring. Just don’t let it affect your schedules, okay? Hoobaes need to focus.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know. But I keep thinking about it. I didn’t want you to trip or anything. That’s all.”
The conversation was short, but it felt nice. Normal. Over the next couple weeks the messages continued. He’d text after long practices asking how your comeback prep was going. You sent him a voice note once telling him to drink water and rest his voice after he mentioned it was sore. He replied with a photo of him holding a water bottle and a thumbs up.
Your companies were monitoring the situation but hadn’t forced any strong statements yet. The rumors stayed at a manageable level, mostly cute shipping instead of full scandal.
One night after a year-end rehearsal, it was freezing outside. Your van was delayed, so you waited in the parking area, arms wrapped around yourself. Ryul’s group was leaving at the same time. He spotted you and told his manager he forgot something inside. A few minutes later he came back with a thick hoodie.
“Here, sunbae. You look cold.” He held it out, a little awkward.
You took it and pulled it on. It was warm and smelled faintly like him. “Thanks. I’ll give it back next time we cross paths.”
“There will be a next time?” he asked, smiling a bit.
You raised an eyebrow. “We have more joint stages coming. Of course there will be.”
He nodded, but his expression stayed soft. The two of you talked quietly for a couple minutes about how exhausting this season was. He admitted he still got nervous sometimes even after debut. You told him it never fully goes away, but it gets easier. For once it didn’t feel like strict sunbae-hoobae. It felt like two people who understood the same pressure.
The hoodie stayed in your bag for days. You kept forgetting to return it on purpose.
The night everything shifted was after a big music show. Both groups had performed, and the backstage was crowded. You slipped away to the rooftop access door that someone had left unlocked for air. The city lights looked pretty from up there. You weren’t alone long.
Ryul appeared a few minutes later, hands in his coat pockets. “I saw you head up here. Is it okay if I join, sunbae?”
“Yeah, come on.”
He stood next to you at the railing. The cold made his cheeks pink. For a while you just talked, about funny mistakes during rehearsal, which songs were stuck in your heads, how some fans sent really sweet letters. Then it got quieter.
Ryul cleared his throat. “A lot of people are still talking about that stage. About me helping you.”
You nodded. “It was sweet. You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” He looked at you directly, a little nervous but determined. “Sunbae… I know I’m younger. And I’m just a hoobae. But I keep thinking about you. Not just because of the rumors. Talking to you feels easy, even when everything else is stressful. You’re really kind and you work hard. I like that.”
Your heart beat faster. You turned to face him fully. “Ryul…”
He continued before he lost courage. “When the rumors calm down a bit… would you want to go on a date with me? Just us. Somewhere quiet, maybe dinner or a drive. No cameras, no staff watching. I know the age thing and the industry stuff makes it complicated, but I really want to get to know you better. If you’re okay with it.”
He was asking you out. The twenty-year-old hoobae who had helped fix your dress on stage was standing there in the cold, asking his sunbae on a date. His eyes were hopeful but ready for rejection.
You smiled, feeling warm despite the winter air. “I’d like that. A lot.”
Ryul’s face lit up with a big grin he couldn’t hold back. “Really? Okay. Good. I was scared I was being too forward.”
“You weren’t.” You tugged the sleeves of his hoodie over your hands. “This is still with me, by the way. Smells like you.”
He laughed softly. “Keep it for now. It looks better on you.”
You stayed up there a little longer, talking about small things. Favorite foods for a possible date, which amusement parks you both secretly wanted to visit but never had time for, how hard it was to eat properly during promotions.
No pressure. Just nice feelings and open possibilities.
When you went back down separately, everything looked normal. But inside you felt lighter. The rumors were still floating around online. Fans were still making theories. Your companies were cautious. Schedules were packed as always.
But the door was open now.
A couple days later your phone buzzed while you were in the practice room.
Ryul: When we both get a free evening, let’s do that date. I found a quiet restaurant, promise.
You smiled down at the screen.
You: Sounds good. But if anything goes wrong, you’re still helping your sunbae, right?
why have you started writing your fics in first person?
Hi!! Actually, I wanted to practice my first-person narration in English more. I'm not used to using this perspective to tell a story, so I wanted to take a bit of a plunge and try something new. :(((
Can you PLEASEEEEEEE do a one shot of seongje?!? Where the reader takes him or rather convinces him by much pleading to go with to an amusement park?! Then he does agree nd both of them have fun?! Her shouting cussing and holding onto him during thrilling rides?! Maybe a scene where someone hits on her and seongje completely flips his soft personality to his usual one?!
Fluff and suggestive a little maybe?!?
Pleaseeeee
AMUSEMENT DATE;gsj
Geum seongje x reader
Warnings: A little swearing.
I had been begging for three weeks.
Three weeks of following Seongje around his apartment like a persistent little shadow. Three weeks of batting my eyelashes, tugging on his sleeve, and using every ounce of charm I possessed.
Three weeks of him saying no in that calm, soft way of his that made me want to scream.
"It's crowded," he said.
"I don't care."
"It's loud."
"I'll buy you earplugs."
"It's full of children."
"And? You love children. I've seen you with your nephew."
He looked at me then, that quiet look he had. The one that made me feel like he was seeing past every layer I had and straight into the messy, stubborn heart of me. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Nope."
He sighed. But it was a soft sigh. The kind that meant he was already giving in and just didn't want to admit it yet.
"Please, Seongje." I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around his waist. Pressed my face into his chest. He smelled like laundry detergent. "Please, please, please. I'll buy you all the food you want. I'll let you pick every ride. I'll even let you win one of those stupid carnival games."
"You never let me win anything."
"Exactly. So this is a big deal."
He laughed. It was quiet, barely more than a breath, but I felt it vibrate through his chest. His hand came up to rest on the back of my head. His fingers threaded through my hair.
"Fine," he said.
I looked up so fast I almost gave myself whiplash. "Wait. Really?"
"Really. But if you make me regret this, I'm never agreeing to anything again."
I kissed him. Right there in his kitchen, with the dishes still in the sink and the morning light coming through the window. I kissed him hard and fast and then I pulled back and grinned at him.
"You won't regret it," I said. "I promise."
He looked at me with those dark eyes. "I already do."
But he was smiling.
The day of the trip, Seongje showed up at my door wearing something I had never seen before. Casual clothes. Jeans that actually fit him properly. A soft gray t-shirt that made his shoulders look insane. No jacket. No blazer. No perfectly pressed buttons.
I stared at him for a full five seconds.
"What?" he asked.
"You look like a normal person."
"I am a normal person."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "You look like a normal person who does normal things like go to amusement parks and eat cotton candy and ride roller coasters. It's throwing me off."
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to change?"
"Absolutely not." I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. "Let's go before you come to your senses."
The amusement park was exactly as crowded and loud as he had predicted.
I loved it.
Seongje, I could tell, was less enthusiastic. His hand stayed wrapped around mine so tightly that our fingers were practically fused together. He kept looking around at the chaos with an expression that was somewhere between mild horror and quiet amusement.
"You're not having fun yet," I said. "I can tell."
"I'm observing."
"You're brooding."
"I'm observing while brooding. It's a skill."
I laughed and dragged him toward the first ride I saw. It was one of those spinning ones, the kind that swings you in a circle and tries to fling you into the stratosphere. Exactly my kind of thing.
"No," Seongje said.
"Yes."
"That's a death trap."
"It's a thrill ride. There's a difference."
"There's not."
I turned to face him. Put my hands on his chest. Looked up at him with the biggest, most pathetic eyes I could manage. "Seongje. Baby. Love of my life. Please."
He stared at me.
"You're so pesky," he said.
"And yet you love me."
He did not confirm or deny this. But he let me pull him toward the ride, and that was confirmation enough.
The ride was chaos.
The moment the harness clicked into place, I started screaming. Not because I was scared. Because I was excited. Because there is something about being strapped into a machine that is designed to terrify you that makes every single inhibition fly right out of your head.
Seongje, next to me, was silent. His jaw was set. His knuckles were white where he gripped the handles. But he wasn't screaming. He wasn't even making a sound.
"YOU'RE SO BORING!" I yelled at him over the wind.
He turned his head. Looked at me. And then, very quietly, he said, "You're yelling in my ear."
"I KNOW! THAT'S THE POINT!"
We spun. We swung. We dropped. I screamed the entire time, a mix of curse words and nonsense and his name shouted into the chaos. At one point, I reached over and grabbed his arm, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping me from flying off into the sky.
And Seongje? Seongje laughed.
It wasn't his usual quiet laugh. It was a real one. Loud and surprised and completely involuntary. He laughed and then he looked at me and his eyes were bright in a way I had never seen before.
"Okay," he said, still laughing. "Okay, this is fun."
"I TOLD YOU!"
We went on five more rides after that.
Each one was the same. Me screaming and cursing and grabbing onto him like a koala. Him starting out stoic and slowly, gradually, loosening up until he was laughing and holding onto me just as tightly.
On the third ride, I kissed him while we were upside down. It was messy and awkward and our teeth almost clashed and it was perfect.
On the fourth ride, he yelled. Just once. A single, startled shout when the drop caught him off guard. I had never heard him yell before. I almost cried from how happy it made me.
On the fifth ride, I sat in his lap because the seats were small and I refused to be separated from him. The ride attendant gave us a look. Seongje gave the ride attendant a look back. The ride attendant stopped looking.
"That was mean," I said, giggling.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You gave him the scary eyes."
"I have no idea what you mean."
I kissed his cheek. "You're adorable."
"I am not adorable."
"You're the most adorable person I've ever met and I'm going to tell everyone."
He put his hand over my mouth. I licked his palm. He pulled his hand away and looked at me with an expression that was half disgust and half something warmer.
"Pesky," he said again.
"You've mentioned that."
"It bears repeating."
After the rides, we walked through the park with our fingers tangled together. The sun was starting to go down, painting everything in shades of orange and pink. The park was less crowded now. Families with small children were starting to leave. Couples were starting to appear.
Seongje bought me cotton candy. He pretended he didn't want any. Then he ate half of it.
"You're a liar," I said, watching him pull a piece of pink fluff off the stick.
"I have no idea what you mean."
"You said you didn't want cotton candy."
"I changed my mind."
"You're eating it like you haven't had sugar in ten years."
He looked at me. His lips were pink from the cotton candy. There was a tiny piece stuck to his cheek. I reached up and brushed it off. He caught my wrist. Held it for a second longer than necessary.
"You're staring," he said.
"You have something on your face."
"It's gone now."
"But I'm still staring."
He let go of my wrist. But he didn't look away. We stood there in the middle of the path, people walking around us, and he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world worth seeing.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"For what?"
"For coming. For trusting me. For letting me drag you out of your comfort zone."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed my cheek.
"Thank you," he said, "for dragging me."
I grinned. "See? You're having fun."
"Don't push it."
"Too late. I'm already pushing it."
He sighed. But he was smiling.
We found the game booths near the back of the park. The ones with the cheap prizes and the rigged games and the teenage employees who looked like they wanted to be anywhere else.
Seongje stopped in front of the ring toss.
"Pick a prize," he said.
I blinked. "What?"
"Pick a prize. I'm going to win it for you."
I looked at him. Then at the game. Then back at him. "You've never played this before."
"That doesn't matter."
"The game is rigged."
"That also doesn't matter."
He handed the attendant some money. The attendant handed him three rings. Seongje held them in his hand for a moment, studying the bottles like he was calculating trajectories and wind resistance and probably a dozen other things I didn't understand.
"Which prize?" he asked again.
"The big one," I said, pointing at the giant stuffed bear in the corner. "The ugly one."
"Noted."
He threw the first ring. It bounced off the bottle and clattered to the ground.
"Beginner's luck," I said. "Bad beginner's luck."
He ignored me. Threw the second ring. This one landed on the bottle, wobbled for a second, and then fell off.
"Close," I said.
Seongje looked at the third ring. Then he looked at me. Then he looked back at the bottles. Something shifted in his expression. That something I had learned to recognize. The thing that happened right before he stopped being soft.
He threw the third ring.
It landed perfectly on the bottle. Stayed there. Didn't move.
The attendant's jaw dropped.
Seongje turned to me. His face was calm. His eyes were not.
"The bear," he said to the attendant. Without looking away from me.
The attendant handed over the giant, ugly stuffed bear. It was almost as big as I was. Seongje took it and held it out to me like it was a bouquet of flowers.
"For you," he said.
I took the bear. I stared at it. Then I stared at him. "How did you do that?"
"I told you. It doesn't matter that the game is rigged."
"You're terrifying."
"I know."
I hugged the bear. Then I hugged him. Then I hugged the bear again because it was really soft and I was genuinely impressed.
"I'm keeping you forever," I said into his chest.
"That's the plan."
We were walking toward the ferris wheel when it happened.
I was still carrying the bear. It was awkward and huge and I loved it. Seongje had his arm around my shoulders, guiding me through the thinning crowd. Everything was perfect.
And then someone stepped in front of us.
A guy. Probably around our age. Good-looking in that obvious, trying-too-hard way. He had a friend with him who hung back, grinning like this was entertainment.
"Hey," the guy said. He was looking at me. Not at Seongje. At me.
I stopped walking. Seongje stopped walking. His arm tightened slightly around my shoulders.
"Can I help you?" I asked. My voice was polite. Neutral. I had learned from Seongje how to sound like nothing when I needed to.
The guy smiled. It was a confident smile. The kind that had probably worked on other people. "I just wanted to say you're really pretty. Like, really pretty. And that bear is really ugly. So maybe you should ditch the bear and come ride something with me instead."
I blinked.
Behind me, I felt Seongje go still. Not his normal stillness. Something else. Something colder.
"I'm here with someone," I said.
The guy looked at Seongje. Actually looked at him for the first time. And I watched something flicker across his face. Dismissal. He saw Seongje's soft clothes, his quiet posture, the way he was standing there not saying anything. He saw what everyone saw when they first met Seongje. A nice guy. A calm guy. Someone who wouldn't cause trouble.
"She's with me," Seongje said.
His voice was soft. Quiet. The same way it always was.
But I knew. I knew that voice. I knew what lived underneath it.
The guy didn't. He laughed. "Yeah, I can see that, man. But sharing is caring, right?"
Seongje's arm slipped off my shoulders.
He stepped forward. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just... deliberate. One step. Then another. Until he was standing directly in front of the guy. Close enough that there was no personal space left.
"I'm going to give you one chance," Seongje said. Still soft. Still quiet. But there was something underneath the softness now. Something sharp. "You're going to apologize to her. Then you're going to walk away. And you're never going to look at her again."
The guy's friend stopped grinning.
The guy himself tried to hold his ground. But I saw it. The moment he realized he had made a mistake. The moment he looked into Seongje's eyes and saw what was actually there. Not calm. Not quiet. Something that had been sleeping and was now very, very awake.
"Dude," the guy said. His voice cracked slightly. "I was just—"
"You were just being disrespectful." Seongje tilted his head. That little movement. The one that made him look almost curious. "To her. To me. To yourself, honestly. I almost feel bad for you."
The guy swallowed.
"But I don't," Seongje continued. "I don't feel bad for you at all. So here's what's going to happen. You're going to apologize. And then you're going to leave. And if I ever see you near her again, we're going to have a different conversation. A longer one. One that you will not enjoy."
The silence stretched.
Then the guy looked at me. "I'm sorry," he said. Fast. Mumbled. "I didn't mean anything by it."
"Yes you did," Seongje said. "But I'll accept the apology anyway. Now go."
The guy went. His friend followed. They disappeared into the crowd and did not look back.
Seongje stood there for a moment. His shoulders were tense. His hands were curled into loose fists at his sides. He was breathing slow and controlled, the way he did when he was holding something back.
I stepped up beside him. Put my hand on his arm.
"Seongje," I said softly.
He blinked. Turned to look at me. And just like that, the sharp thing inside him receded. His shoulders relaxed. His hands uncurled. His eyes softened back into the eyes I knew.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Am I okay? You just threatened a guy into apologizing to me. I'm more than okay. I'm great."
"He shouldn't have talked to you like that."
"He didn't know."
"He should have known." Seongje reached out and took my hand. His fingers were still cold. Still a little tense. "You're with me. That should be enough."
I squeezed his hand. "It is enough. For anyone with half a brain. That guy just didn't have half a brain."
Seongje almost smiled. Almost.
"Come on," I said, tugging him toward the ferris wheel. "Let's go do something romantic so you can calm down."
"I am calm."
"You're not. You're vibrating."
"I don't vibrate."
"Your hand is literally vibrating in mine."
He looked down at our joined hands. Then back at me. "That's from the cotton candy."
"The cotton candy?"
"Sugar rush."
"Seongje."
"What?"
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "I love you."
He was quiet for a moment. Then, so softly I almost didn't hear it, he said, "I know."
The ferris wheel was slow and quiet and exactly what we needed.
We sat across from each other because the bear took up too much space. The ugly bear. The one he had won for me. It sat between us like a fluffy chaperone, its plastic eyes staring at nothing.
Seongje was looking out the window. The lights of the park spread out below us, a mess of colors and movement. From up here, it didn't look chaotic. It looked beautiful.
"You were really scary back there," I said.
He didn't look at me. "I know."
"Like, really scary. I forgot you could be like that."
"I try not to be."
"I know that too."
He turned his head. Looked at me. The ferris wheel creaked as we swung gently at the top.
"Are you scared of me?" he asked.
It was a real question. I could tell. Not insecurity, exactly. Something closer to curiosity. He wanted to know if the thing inside him, the sharp thing, scared me.
"No," I said. "I'm not scared of you. I'm scared of what you might do to someone who actually hurts me. But I'm not scared of you."
He considered this. Then he nodded. "That's fair."
"I'm also a little bit turned on."
He blinked. "What?"
"You heard me." I grinned at him. "The way you stood up to that guy? The way your voice got all low and dangerous? That was hot. I'm not going to pretend it wasn't."
Seongje stared at me. His expression was unreadable. But his ears were turning red. They always gave him away.
"You're pesky," he said for the third time that day.
"And yet you love me."
He didn't confirm or deny. But he reached across the bear and took my hand. His fingers were warm now. No more vibrating.
"I love the way you scream on roller coasters," he said quietly. "I love the way you curse. I love the way you hold onto me like I'm the only thing keeping you safe."
"Because you are."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he lifted my hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.
"I love you too," he said.
It was the first time he had said it. Really said it. Not implied it. Not hinted at it. Just said it, plain and simple, with no performance and no armor.
I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I just looked at him, this soft and sharp and impossible man, and I felt something expand in my chest until I thought I might burst.
The ferris wheel started moving again. Carrying us down toward the ground. Toward the lights and the noise and the rest of the night.
But for a moment, at the top of the world, Seongje had said he loved me.
Hiii I just wanted to request something really quick your stories are soo good. Am not that good at explaining stuff.
A Suho x fem reader
Were the reader hides her personality from Suho around him and his friends she very sweet and kind and a good girl that doesn't somke but ever girl in the school knows her true personality she is very bitch but not a bully she is very possessive of Suho and threatens every girl whose ever wrote a love letter to him or asked him out on a date or anything like that
One day Suho is walking around the should looking for her and sees her in a alleyway with some of her "friends" she when he calls out to her he over wears he talking she smoking and pressing her foot down on one of her "friends" because the girl secretly wrote a letter to suho but she found before he did and she threatening her saying that just because she is friends with her it doesn't mean she can do whatever she wants and that Suho belongs to her and to stay away from what belongs to her then tells them to leave and just when she's about to leave to suho comes out smirking.
BELONG TO ME;ash
Ahn Suho x reader
Warnings: obsessed-ish reader? threats, lies.
I think the worst part wasn't the lying. It was how easy the lying came to me.
That’s not entirely true. The worst part was always the moment right before I saw him, when I had to pull all the sharp edges back inside my skin and smooth my face into something soft and uncomplicated.
That took effort.
The actual being sweet once I was in front of him? That part was easy. Because he made me want to be sweet. He made me want to be the girl in the white dress who laughed at his jokes and touched his arm like I was nervous.
That girl existed. She just wasn't the only one.
Suho knew the soft version of me. He knew the version who brought him coffee before his morning classes, who remembered that he didn't like the sugar stirred in too aggressively, who looked up at him through her eyelashes when he held her hand.
That girl was real. But she was also a performance. And I had been performing for so long that sometimes I forgot where the mask ended and my actual face began.
It started small.
The first time a girl passed him a note in the hallway, I was standing right there. She folded it into a tiny square, pressed it into his palm like she was handing over a secret, and then she looked at me. Not with malice. She looked at me like I was furniture. Like I was the nice, quiet girlfriend who wouldn't do anything because nice, quiet girlfriends never did.
I smiled at her. I remember that. I smiled and I tilted my head and I let her think I was harmless.
She found out three days later.
I didn't hit her. I want to make that clear. I never hit anyone. That would have been too easy to trace back to me, too messy, too much like the girls who screamed and pulled hair in the bathroom stalls.
I was not that. I was worse.
I found her after school, not in a dark alley or anything dramatic like that, just in the parking lot near the bike racks where no teachers ever looked. I stood close to her. Closer than was comfortable. And I said, very quietly, "The note you gave Suho. What was in it?"
She tried to lie. Her voice shook and she said it was about homework. I let her finish. Then I pulled the exact same folded square from my pocket. I had taken it from Suho's backpack that morning while he was in the shower. He never even noticed. He thought he lost things all the time. That was one of the things I loved about him.
He was so trusting.
"I know what it said," I told her. "You wrote that you liked his smile. You wrote that you thought about him at night. You drew a little heart next to your name. Do you want me to show him this? Do you want me to show everyone? Because I will. But first, I want you to think about what happens to girls who go after things that don't belong to them."
She cried. I let her cry. Then I made her promise to never look at him again. She transferred schools two weeks later. I don't know if that was because of me or because of something else. I didn't ask. I didn't care.
That was the first time. It wasn't the last.
Every girl in school knew what I was. Not the teachers. Not the administration. Not Suho or any of his friends.
But the girls?
The girls knew. They watched me walk down the hallway and they stepped to the side. They saw me coming and they lowered their voices. I wasn't a bully in the way people think of bullies. I didn't steal lunch money. I didn't shove anyone into lockers. I didn't spread rumors.
I was worse than that.
I was quiet. I was patient. And I was absolutely, terrifyingly possessive of one person.
Suho had no idea.
To him, I was the girl who blushed when he complimented her. I was the girl who got shy around his friends and didn't talk much at parties. I was the girl who sat on his lap at group hangouts and rested her head on his shoulder and let him do all the talking because she was just so sweet and so soft and so obviously in love with him that she couldn't think of anything else to say.
That last part was true.
I was in love with him.
That was real. But the shyness? The quiet? That was armor. That was me hiding in plain sight.
His friends liked me because I didn't demand attention. I didn't insert myself into their conversations. I laughed when they made jokes, I nodded along when they talked about things I didn't understand, and I never, ever asked Suho to leave early or pay more attention to me than to them.
I was the ideal girlfriend from the outside. Low maintenance. Sweet. Undemanding.
They didn't know that I had a list. A real list, written in a notebook I kept locked in my nightstand drawer. Every girl who had ever looked at Suho too long.
Every girl who had ever written him a letter, passed him a note, asked him to a dance before he was with me.
Every girl who had ever posted a comment on his social media that felt too familiar. I wrote their names down. And I handled them.
One by one. Quietly. No witnesses. No proof.
I never threatened the same girl twice because I never had to. Once was enough. I had a way of looking at people that made them understand something fundamental about me.
I wasn't angry when I did it. I wasn't cruel. I was just certain. I looked at them and I said, "He's mine," and something in their face would shift. They would see it. The thing behind my eyes that didn't blink. The thing that would wait.
I never touched Suho's phone. That was a rule I made for myself. I didn't go through his messages, didn't check his call log, didn't monitor who he was talking to.
I wanted him to choose me. I wanted him to stay because he wanted to stay, not because I had removed every other option. But the girls who approached him? The ones who didn't know better? They were fair game.
There was a girl named Yuna in the winter of that year. She was pretty. Prettier than me, probably. She had long hair and a laugh that carried across the cafeteria and she wrote Suho a letter that said she thought they had a connection. I found out because her best friend told me. Her best friend came to me, actually. She found me in the bathroom during fourth period and she said, "I don't want any trouble, but Yuna doesn't know about you. She's new. Someone should tell her."
That was how it worked. The other girls policed each other for me. They were afraid of me, yes, but they were also fascinated. I was a cautionary tale. I was what happened when you loved someone too much. They watched me the way people watch car crashes. They couldn't look away.
I waited three days before I approached Yuna. I let her get comfortable. I let her think Suho was just a nice boy who smiled at her in the hallway. Then I found her alone after a club meeting and I sat down next to her like we were friends.
"You're new," I said.
She nodded. She was nervous. She could feel something wrong in the air between us even though I was smiling.
"I just wanted to welcome you," I told her. "I know it's hard to be new. But I also wanted to give you some advice." I leaned closer. I didn't raise my voice. "Suho is mine. I don't share. And I don't forgive. So whatever you wrote in that letter, I want you to take it back. I want you to forget you ever thought about him. And I want you to understand that if you don't, I will make sure everyone knows every secret you've ever told anyone. I've already talked to your best friend. She told me about the thing with your ex-boyfriend. The thing you don't want people to know."
Yuna turned white. Her hands started shaking.
I stood up. I smoothed my skirt. I smiled at her one more time. "Welcome to the school," I said. "I hope you're happy here."
She never looked at Suho again. Not once.
That was my life for almost a year. Two versions of me. The soft, sweet girlfriend who held Suho's hand and never raised her voice. And the other one. The one who collected secrets like coins and used them to keep every other girl at a distance.
I thought I was careful. I thought I was smart. I thought I had built walls so high and so thick that no one could ever see over them.
I was wrong.
The day it happened started like any other day. I woke up next to Suho. We had fallen asleep on his couch the night before, watching a movie I didn't pay attention to because I was too busy tracing the lines of his face with my fingers. He looked younger when he slept. Softer. I let myself watch him for a long time before I got up.
I made him coffee. I put it on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. I wrote him a little note on a napkin that said "Good morning, sleepyhead" with a heart next to it. Then I went home to change for school.
That was one of the lies I told him. He thought I lived with in a nice house on the other side of town. I did not. I lived in a studio apartment above a laundromat that smelled like fabric softener. My parents were in another country. They sent me money every month and called me twice a week and had no idea what my life actually looked like. I told Suho I lived with my aunt. I told him my aunt worked nights so he couldn't come over. He never questioned it.
He never questioned anything.
I was wearing a pale yellow sweater that day. Soft. Innocent. I had my hair in a low ponytail and my makeup was light. I looked like the kind of girl who volunteered at animal shelters and wrote poetry about the ocean. That was on purpose.
I met him outside his first class. He kissed my forehead. He said I looked pretty. I blushed. The blush was real. It always was.
"Are you coming to lunch with us?" he asked. "The guys want to go to that place off school."
"I have something to do," I said. "But I'll meet you after."
He didn't ask what. That was the thing about Suho. He trusted me. Completely. Absolutely. He thought I was going to the library or meeting a study group or doing any of the other boring, wholesome things he believed I spent my time doing.
I kissed his cheek. I let my hand rest on his chest for a second longer than necessary. Then I walked away.
I didn't go to the library.
The alley was behind the old convenience store that had gone out of business six months ago. It was a good spot. No cameras. No foot traffic. The only people who used it were the ones who had business there, and the only people who had business there were the ones who didn't want to be seen.
My friends were waiting for me. I use the term "friends" loosely. They were more like satellites. Girls who orbited around me because they were scared of me or because they wanted to be me or because they thought my loyalty might protect them from someone else. I didn't care why they stayed. I just cared that they did what I said.
There were three of them that day. Hana, Mina, and Soojung. Hana was the one who had texted me that morning. She said there was a problem. She said it was about Suho.
I found them huddled near the dumpster. And on the ground, sitting on the wet pavement with her back against the brick wall, was Jieun.
Jieun was supposed to be my friend. Not one of the satellites. An actual friend. Or as close to one as I allowed myself to have. She had been in my study group for two semesters. She had loaned me her notes when I was sick. She had never given me a reason to distrust her.
Until now.
"What did she do?" I asked. I didn't look at Jieun. I looked at Hana.
Hana handed me a folded piece of paper. It was pink. Scented, even. The kind of paper girls used when they wanted to be romantic. I already knew what it was before I opened it. I had seen a hundred of them.
The letter said all the same things they always said. That Suho was kind. That he had a smile that made her feel safe. That she knew he was taken but she couldn't help how she felt and she just wanted him to know.
She had signed her name at the bottom. Jieun. With a little heart dotting the 'i'.
I read it twice. Then I folded it carefully and put it in my pocket.
"Jieun," I said.
She looked up at me. Her eyes were red. She had been crying. Good.
"We've been friends for a while," I said. "I thought you understood how things work."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I wasn't going to give it to him. I wrote it and I couldn't—I wasn't going to—"
"But you did write it." My voice was calm. Quiet. That was the scariest part, I think. I never yelled. "You sat down somewhere, probably in your room with your fairy lights and your scented candles, and you thought about my boyfriend. You thought about his hands. You thought about his mouth. You thought about what it would be like if he looked at you the way he looks at me. And then you wrote it all down on pink paper and you put a heart over your 'i' like you were in some kind of movie."
Jieun started crying harder. "I didn't mean—"
"Stop." I held up my hand. "I don't want to hear what you didn't mean. I want you to hear what I mean."
Jieun watched me. Her face was a mess of tears and mascara and fear.
"Come here," I said.
She didn't move.
I stepped forward and pressed my foot down on her ankle. Not hard enough to break anything. Hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to make her understand that I was not asking.
She crawled toward me. I kept my foot on her, not letting go, until she was right at my feet. Then I pressed down harder. She gasped.
"Just because you're my friend doesn't mean you can do whatever you want," I said. "I let you close to me. I let you into my life. I thought you understood that was a privilege, not a right."
"I understand," she sobbed. "I understand, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"Suho is mine." I said it slowly. Clearly. Like I was explaining something to a child. "He belongs to me. Not to you. Not to anyone. And I don't care how many letters you write or how many hearts you draw or how much you cry right now. If you ever, ever look at him again, I will ruin you. I will tell everyone about the money you stole from your grandmother. I will tell everyone about the boy you cheated on in ninth grade. I will find every secret you have ever tried to hide and I will put them all on display. Do you understand me?"
She nodded. She was shaking so hard I could feel it through my shoe.
"Say it," I said.
"I understand."
"Say 'Suho belongs to you.'"
"Suho belongs to you."
I took my foot off her ankle. Then I looked at Hana, Mina, and Soojung.
"You three. Leave."
They left. They didn't look back. They knew better.
Jieun stayed on the ground, crying, holding her ankle. I didn't help her up. I didn't offer her a hand or a kind word or any of the things a real friend would have given. I just looked at her for a long moment, memorizing the shape of her fear, and then I turned to walk away.
That was when I heard it.
"Wow."
Just one word. Quiet. Almost amused.
I froze.
I knew that voice. I had heard it say my name a thousand times. I had heard it whisper things to me in the dark. I had heard it laugh and sigh and fall asleep mid-sentence.
I turned around.
Suho was standing at the mouth of the alley. He had his hands in his pockets. His head was tilted to the side. And he was smirking.
Not an angry smirk. Not a disappointed one. Something else. Something I couldn't read.
My heart stopped. Then it started again, too fast, hammering against my ribs like something trying to escape a cage.
"Suho," I said.
My voice sounded strange. Small. I had never been small around anyone except him. But this was different. This wasn't the soft, sweet smallness I performed. This was real. I was actually, genuinely terrified.
He walked toward me. Slow. Casual. Like he had all the time in the world.
"I was looking for you," he said. "I wanted to walk you to lunch. Someone said they saw you head this way." He stopped a few feet away from me. His eyes moved from my face to the cigarette butt on the ground to Jieun, still crying against the wall. Then back to me. "Guess I found you."
I didn't say anything. What could I say? Every lie I had ever told him was suddenly useless. Every performance I had ever given was over. He had seen me. Not the soft version. Not the sweet version.
The real one.
The one who stepped on her friends and threatened girls with their own secrets.
"Jieun," Suho said. He looked at her. "You should go."
She scrambled to her feet. She didn't look at either of us. She just ran. Her footsteps echoed off the brick walls and then faded and then there was silence.
Suho and I stood in the alley. I wanted to say something. I wanted to explain. But every word I thought of sounded like an excuse and I had never been good at excuses.
I was good at threats. I was good at secrets. I was good at being two different people. I was not good at this.
"How long?" I finally asked.
"How long have I known?" He tilted his head again. That smirk was still there. It was driving me crazy. "Or how long have I been standing here?"
"Both."
He took a step closer. Then another. He was close enough now that I could smell his shampoo. That clean, citrus thing he used. I had bought it for him three months ago. I remembered standing in the store, comparing bottles, trying to pick the one that would make him smell like mine.
"I've known for a while," he said. "Not everything. Not the details. But I knew you weren't as sweet as you pretended to be."
I blinked. "What?"
"Come on." He laughed. It was a real laugh. Warm. Like this was funny to him. Like finding out his girlfriend was a monster was actually amusing. "You think I didn't notice? All those girls who stopped talking to me? All those letters I never got? I'm not stupid."
"I didn't—"
"You hid them." He said it simply. Like it was a fact. Like the sky was blue and the earth was round. "You hid every letter anyone ever wrote me. You never went through my phone, I know that. I checked. But the letters? The notes? The messages people tried to pass to me through friends? Those disappeared. And I let them."
I stared at him. "You let them?"
"I wanted to see what you would do." He shrugged. "At first I was curious. Then I was impressed. Then I was..." He paused. His smirk softened into something that looked almost like wonder. "Then I was in love."
I must have made a face because he laughed again.
"You heard me," he said. "I'm in love with you. All of you. Not just the girl who brings me coffee. The other one too. The one who just threatened to ruin her friend's life because she wrote me a letter."
"That's not—" I stopped. I didn't know what I was trying to say.
"Let me tell you something," Suho said. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers were warm. Gentle. The same way they always were. "Every girl I've ever dated was nice. Every single one. They were sweet and kind and they never raised their voices and they let me do whatever I wanted. And I was bored out of my mind."
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
"You," he continued, "are not boring. You are the least boring person I have ever met. You have a notebook full of secrets hidden in your nightstand. You have three girls who do whatever you tell them to. You step on people and you have kept every other girl in this school away from me for almost a year without me ever finding out. Do you know how impressive that is?"
"This isn't a job interview," I said. My voice came out hoarse.
"No," he agreed. "It's better."
He kissed me.
Right there in the alley, with the smell of smoke and garbage and the faint echo of Jieun's footsteps still in the air, Suho kissed me. And it was different from every other kiss we had ever shared. Before, I had always been performing. Always holding back. Always making sure I was soft and sweet and exactly what he wanted.
This time, I didn't hold back. I kissed him like I owned him. Because I did. I kissed him like I had threatened a dozen girls for him and I would threaten a dozen more. Like I had a list in my nightstand and I wasn't sorry about it. Like I was exactly who I was and for the first time, I wasn't hiding.
When he pulled back, he was smiling. That real smile. The one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.
"There she is," he said.
I didn't know what that meant. But I didn't ask.
He took my hand. His fingers laced through mine. He looked down at our joined hands and then back at my face.
"You're going to have to tell me everything," he said. "The list. The secrets. The girls. All of it."
"Okay," I said.
"And you're going to have to promise me something."
"What?"
His smirk came back. That infuriating, wonderful smirk. "You're never going to hide from me again. Not the soft parts. Not the sharp parts. I want all of it. The good girl and the one who steps on people. I want both."
I looked at him for a long time. The boy I had threatened everyone for. The boy I had lied to every single day. The boy who had known, somehow, all along.
"Okay," I said again.
He squeezed my hand. Then he pulled me out of the alley and into the sunlight.
We walked back toward school. His thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. The same way it always did. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed.
"You know," he said after a few minutes, "you never had to threaten anyone."
I looked at him.
"I was never going to leave you," he said. "Not for Yuna. Not for Jieun. Not for anyone. You could have just asked."
"I know," I said.
And I did know. That was the worst part. I knew he loved me. I knew he wasn't going anywhere. But knowing wasn't enough. I needed to make sure. I needed to remove every possibility. I needed to be the only option.
He looked at me. That look. Like he could see through my skin and into the messy, complicated, possessive thing I was underneath.
"I know you know," he said. "That's why I stayed."
We didn't talk about it again that day. We went to lunch with his friends. I sat on his lap and rested my head on his shoulder and let him do all the talking. His friends thought nothing had changed. They saw the same soft, sweet girl they had always seen.
But underneath the table, Suho's hand was on my thigh. And every few minutes, he squeezed. Just a little. Just enough.
A secret language. Just for us.
That night, I went home to my apartment above the laundromat. I opened my nightstand drawer. I took out the notebook. The list. Every name I had ever written down.
I looked at it for a long time.
Then I closed the notebook and put it back in the drawer.
Not because I didn't need it anymore. I still did. There would be other girls. There always were. And I would handle them the same way I always had. Quietly. Patiently. Thoroughly.
But now, when I came home to Suho, I wouldn't have to pretend. He would kiss me and he would smile because that was who I was. That was who he wanted.
The good girl was a performance.
The other one? The one who watched and waited and never let anyone forget what was hers?
That one was real.
And Suho loved her anyway.
I think about that day sometimes. The way Jieun cried. The way Suho stepped out of the shadows like he had been waiting for the right moment all along.
He told me later that he had followed me for weeks before that. Not because he didn't trust me. Because he wanted to know me. All of me. And he knew I would never show him on my own.
"I wanted you to feel safe enough to be yourself," he said. "But you never did. So I had to make you."
I asked him if he was scared. Of what he saw. Of what I was.
He laughed. "No," he said. "I was scared of losing you. That's different."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I didn't say anything. I just kissed him. And when I pulled back, he was smirking again.
"There she is," he said.
There she was.
There I was.
And for the first time in a very long time, I wasn't hiding.
You were smart. Really smart. The kind of person who could look at an advanced math problem and solve it in seconds while everyone else was still looking for their pencil. Your brain worked fast, processing everything with flawless logic, and there wasn't a single equation you couldn't crack.
But there was one thing you couldn't solve: the existence of Ahn Keonho.
Keonho was the most popular guy in school. Tall, handsome, with that big smile that melted anyone and a way of walking that looked like it was in slow motion. Always surrounded by friends, always laughing, always the center of attention without even trying.
Everything about him made you nervous.
It wasn't that you hated him. Not at all. The problem was exactly that: you didn't hate him.
Every time you saw him, your pulse would speed up and your logical thoughts would turn into a mess. You, who could recite formulas from memory, would go completely blank if he was nearby. So your strategy was simple: avoid him at all costs.
If you saw him in the hallway, you changed direction. If he walked into the classroom, you focused so hard on your book you almost devoured it. If by chance his eyes met yours, you looked away so fast it seemed like you'd seen a ghost.
But Keonho didn't get it.
He had noticed you since the first day of class. Well, actually, since the day the teacher put an impossible problem on the board and you solved it in less than a minute, without even lifting your head much.
That left him intrigued.
And when something intrigued Keonho, he couldn't let it go.
He started watching you. Watching you without his friends noticing. He liked how you furrowed your brow when you concentrated, how you chewed on the cap of your pen when you were thinking, how you pushed your glasses up your nose when they slipped down. All of it seemed adorable to him.
But every time he tried to get closer, you bolted.
And that, for Keonho, became a challenge.
. . .
One day, in chemistry class, the teacher announced a partner project. Keonho saw his chance. He turned toward you with that smile of his and opened his mouth to ask you to be his partner, but you, faster than ever, were already pulling the arm of a classmate who was farther away.
You literally crossed the room to avoid being with him.
Keonho was left with his mouth open and one eyebrow raised.
"Did you just get rejected, bro?" one of his friends whispered, holding back a laugh.
"I didn't get rejected," he answered, crossing his arms, his pride a little wounded. "They just... beat me to it."
But inside he was frustrated. Why did you always run off? Did he have something on his face? Did he smell bad? He sniffed his shirt discreetly. No, he smelled fine. So what was the problem?
But even after that, he decided not to give up.
. . .
Over the following days, Keonho looked for you without his group noticing. He'd sneak away with any excuse to pass by your classroom during periods you didn't share and see you through the window.
He pretended he was going to the bathroom or that he needed to talk to some teacher, all just to watch you sitting at your desk, oblivious to everything, solving problems that probably had nothing to do with the class.
One day he saw you helping a classmate with an assignment. You were explaining things with a patience he had never had, pointing with your pen and gesturing with your hands. Keonho stood leaning against the door, watching you with a dopey smile.
"What are you doing just standing there, Keonho?"
His friend's voice startled him. He turned around fast, scratching the back of his neck.
"Nothing, nothing. I was going to the bathroom.
"I didn't know they moved the bathrooms to classroom 2-C."
"Oh, they didn't? How dumb of me. Well, I'm going." And he walked off quickly, feeling his ears burning.
. . .
But Keonho wasn't the type to give up easily. If he liked something, he went for it.
And he liked you.
He liked your intelligence, your concentration, that way you had of being in your own world. He wanted to get to know you, talk to you, find out what you liked besides math.
So he planned a more direct attack.
One day, during literature class, your eyes met by accident. You were looking at the time on the wall clock that happened to be right behind him. Keonho took that second to smile at you. When you realized, you turned bright red and looked away so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash.
Keonho smiled wider. He liked seeing you all nervous like that.
That same afternoon, after the bell, you saw him again in the hallway. He was walking your way with his hands in his pockets and that carefree stroll of his. Instinctively, you turned around and started walking the other way.
"Yah!" he murmured to himself, and started following you.
You noticed. You clearly noticed. You picked up your pace. He did too. You were almost running when you turned a corner. He turned right after, but you were gone. You had disappeared into some empty classroom.
Keonho stood in the middle of the hallway, hands on his hips and a smile somewhere between amused and resigned.
"Unbelievable..." he said under his breath.
. . .
Keonho understood he needed a more drastic plan. Something that wouldn't give you a chance to escape. Something that would force you to stay put.
And then, a crazy idea crossed his mind.
That week, during history class, Keonho sat right in the seat next to you. It was the first time he had been this close to you without you being able to run off. You felt the air grow thicker. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.
You tried to focus on your notebook, but it was impossible. Especially because Keonho started doing something you didn't expect.
He stained your desk.
He grabbed his marker and drew a little line in the corner. You ignored him. He made another one. You kept focusing on your book. He drew a little star. You clenched your jaw. He drew a smiley face. You closed your eyes, praying for patience. He drew another smiley face next to it, this time with heart eyes.
It was too much. You turned to look at him, brow furrowed and lips pressed tight.
"What are you doing?" you whispered, trying to sound annoyed, though your voice came out more nervous than anything.
Keonho looked at you with those big, expressive eyes that made you forget even your own name. He pouted. One of those pouts that left you completely defenseless.
"You just won't pay attention to me," he answered, with an almost childish tone.
You felt your face burn. Damn it. He was way too cute for his own good. And for yours.
"I'm busy," you said, going back to your book, even though you couldn't read a single word.
Keonho didn't give up. He started drawing more things: a sun, a cloud, a cat that looked like some weird creature. You pretended not to see, but your cheeks gave you away.
Then, suddenly, you felt a weight on your shoulder. Keonho had rested his chin there. Right on your shoulder. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Your brain went blank. Your whole system collapsed. The equations, the formulas, everything you knew vanished in that instant.
"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice barely a thread. You meant to sound firm, but it came out more like a strangled squeak.
Keonho, with his chin still on your shoulder and his eyes looking up at you from below, lifted his gaze. You were so close you could count his eyelashes.
"Tell me, what are you doing?" he asked. "You're always solving weird equations. What are they?"
You swallowed. You tried to regain your composure. You cleared your throat. "They're... equations," you answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, even though your brain could barely form words. "Differential equations."
Keonho blinked. "And what's that for?"
"To... solve problems."
"Ah..." he said, without lifting his chin from your shoulder. "So you're solving problems?"
"Yes."
"Well, I have a problem I can't solve." You looked at him, confused. Keonho smiled that lopsided smile, the one you liked so much and avoided so hard. "The problem is that I've liked you for months and you always run away," he said, with a casualness that left you breathless. "Can you solve that?"
You felt the world stop. Literally. The sounds of the classroom faded out. It was just you, Keonho, and his chin on your shoulder.
You didn't know what to say. You, who always had the right answer, were completely blank.
And then, the teacher cleared his throat. "You two. Stand up."
You turned around so fast you almost hit Keonho with your head. The teacher was standing in front of you, arms crossed and a look that said he was not happy.
"You've been talking for a while now. Do you think I don't notice?" he said sternly. "Detention. Both of you. You're staying after class to clean the classroom."
Keonho stood up without protesting, with a smile he was trying to hide but couldn't. You, on the other hand, were red as a tomato and wishing the ground would swallow you whole.
Detention? You? You had never gotten detention in your life.
You were the perfect student. The one who never talked in class. The one who always paid attention.
And now, thanks to Ahn Keonho and his chin on your shoulder, you had detention.
The worst part was that he didn't seem sorry at all.
. . .
The classroom emptied out when the bell rang. Everyone rushed out to enjoy their freedom, while you and Keonho stayed behind, surrounded by desks and with brooms in hand.
The silence was overwhelming. At least for you. Keonho, on the other hand, was sweeping like it was nothing, quietly whistling a tune you didn't recognize.
You tried to focus on cleaning, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Specifically, on what he had said right before the scolding.
"I've liked you for months."
Was he serious? Was it a joke? Some kind of social experiment? Because, honestly, you didn't understand why someone like him would notice someone like you.
"Hey," Keonho said, breaking the silence. "Are you mad?"
You glanced at him sideways. He was leaning on his broom, head tilted and wearing that pout you both loved and hated at the same time.
"No," you answered, dryly.
"You seem like you are."
"Well, I'm not."
"Then look at me."
You took a breath and lifted your gaze. Keonho was staring at you intently, and a light blush covered his cheeks. It was the first time you'd seen him nervous.
"Why do you always run away?" he asked, his voice softer. "Do you not like me or something?"
You shook your head. "No... it's not that."
"Then what is it?"
You pressed your lips together. How were you supposed to explain that he made you so nervous you'd rather flee? That you liked him so much you couldn't look him in the eye?
"It's just..." you started, searching for the words. "You're you and I'm me."
Keonho raised an eyebrow.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"It means we're not on the same level, Keonho. It might sound cliché, but you're the handsome guy, and me... I like solving differential equations."
Keonho stayed quiet for a moment. Then, he let out a little laugh.
"You're the smartest person I know and you say the dumbest things." You felt a little offended. But Keonho kept talking. "That's exactly why I like you. Because you solve equations in seconds. Because you furrow your brow when you concentrate. Because you chew on your pen when you don't understand something. Because you get all nervous and run the other way when you see me. I like all of that."
You felt your heart was going to explode. Keonho took a step toward you. His broom lay forgotten in some corner.
"So stop running," he said. "Because I'm planning to follow you until you pay attention to me."
You were about to answer something, anything, when Keonho leaned in and planted a quick kiss on your cheek.
It was barely a brush. A second, maybe two. But enough for your brain to shut down completely and your cheeks to burn like fire.
Before you could react, Keonho had already pulled away and was running toward the back of the classroom. He dropped into the last seat, a nervous laugh escaping his lips.
And you saw it. You saw how his ears were red. Red just like yours. He was blushing too, even though he tried to hide it with that awkward laugh.
You shrank a little in your seat, hands on your cheeks and heart racing a million miles an hour. You couldn't believe what had just happened.
Keonho, from the back, watched you and laughed softly, amused and nervous at the same time. He had acted on impulse. Without thinking. But he didn't regret it.
the way you write is so fun!! :p can you make a fic where the reader is trying to win a plushie from a claw machine or something and she keeps losing, so seongje being “such a good boyfriend” decides to help her only for him to suck at it and now they’re both struggling LOL
CLAW MACHINE;gsj
Geum Seongje x reader
Warnings: Swearing, seongje being humbled by a claw machine.
The arcade on the corner of the busy street near Kanghak High was loud, flashing, and smelled like popcorn, cheap perfume, and teenage sweat. Neon lights blinked aggressively overhead, and the constant beep-boop of games mixed with shouts of victory and groans of defeat. It was a Friday evening, the kind where students blew their allowance on nothing useful.
You stood in front of the claw machine like it had personally insulted your ancestors. Inside the glass case sat the cutest plushie ever, a chubby black cat with big sparkling eyes, tiny white paws, and a little red bow tie. It was perfect. You wanted it. No, you needed it.
For the seventh time, you fed another coin into the slot. The claw hummed to life. You bit your lip in concentration, tongue poking out slightly as you maneuvered the joystick with precision.
“Almost… almost… got it—”
The claw descended, gripped the cat’s head for half a second… and slipped right off. The plushie wobbled mockingly but stayed exactly where it was. The machine made that sad little “try again” jingle.
You let out a long, defeated groan and slumped against the glass. “Why is this thing so rigged? It’s like it hates me specifically.”
From behind you came a low, cocky laugh. Seong-je leaned against the side of the machine, arms crossed over his chest, that signature smirk plastered on his face. His school uniform jacket was slung over one shoulder, hair slightly messy in that effortlessly cool way. Even in the harsh arcade lighting, he looked like he owned the place.
“Having trouble there, babe?” he drawled, voice dripping with amusement. “Looks like the machine’s winning. Again.”
You shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted. Dating Seong-je meant dealing with his massive ego on a daily basis. He was Baek-jin’s right-hand man for a reason, brutal in fights, playful when he felt like it, and convinced he was the best at literally everything. Including, apparently, things he had never tried.
“It’s not my fault,” you muttered, poking the glass. “The claw is weak. Or the plushie is too heavy. Or the universe is against me.”
Seong-je pushed off the machine and stepped closer, towering over you with that arrogant tilt to his head. “Or maybe you just suck at it.” He grinned wider when you swatted his arm. “Relax. Watch a pro handle this.”
You raised an eyebrow. “A pro? Since when are you a claw machine expert?”
“Since right now,” he said confidently, cracking his knuckles like he was about to step into a back-alley fight instead of an arcade game. “I’m good at everything, babe… picking up stuffed toys for my girlfriend? Piece of cake. Step aside and learn.”
He fed a coin into the machine with dramatic flair, rolling his shoulders like he was warming up for a title match. You crossed your arms and watched, trying not to laugh already.
Seong-je gripped the joystick with surprising focus, eyes narrowing. “See? You gotta be precise. Calculate the angle. Account for the drop. It’s all about control.”
The claw moved. He positioned it perfectly over the cat’s head.
“Watch this,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “One smooth motion and—”
Down it went. The claw closed… around empty air. It brushed the cat’s ear and lifted nothing. The plushie didn’t even budge.
The machine played its mocking jingle again.
Seong-je stared at the glass for a long second. “What the—? That should’ve worked.”
You couldn’t hold back the snort. “Piece of cake, huh?”
He shot you a look, half-annoyed, half-challenged. “Beginner’s luck for the machine. Try number two.”
Another coin. Another attempt. This time he aimed for the side, trying to nudge it toward the prize chute. The claw grabbed the cat’s paw… and the entire thing slipped free at the last second, dropping the plushie right back into its smug position.
“Fuck,” Seong-je hissed under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.
You leaned against the machine, grinning now. “The great Geum Seong-je, terror of Kanghak High, defeated by a claw machine. I’m telling the whole Union.”
“Don’t even start,” he warned, but there was no real heat in it. His ego was clearly bruised, and that only made him more determined. “This thing is rigged. The claw’s loose on purpose. They want your money.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
He fed in a third coin, muttering strategy under his breath like he was planning a gang takedown. “Come on, you piece of junk…”
The claw descended. Gripped. Lifted.
For one glorious second, the cat rose halfway to the chute.
Then the claw opened prematurely. The plushie tumbled back down, landing face-first in a pile of other rejects.
Seong-je slammed his palm against the glass. “Are you kidding me?!”
You burst out laughing, covering your mouth. “Oh my god, your face. You look like you just lost a real fight.”
“I don’t lose fights,” he snapped, pointing at the machine like it was a personal enemy. “And I’m not losing to this fucking machine either.”
What followed was a slow, hilarious descent into chaos.
Seong-je, the guy who could intimidate entire groups with a single smile, became completely obsessed. He started pacing in front of the claw machine, analyzing it like it was a rival gang’s territory.
“These things have weak spots,” he declared. “You gotta exploit them. Watch.”
Coin four. He tried slamming the joystick at the exact right moment for “extra grip power” (his words). The claw barely moved.
Coin five. He shook the machine lightly, not enough to trigger the tilt alarm, but enough to make you hiss, “Seong-je...”
"Shut, I'm not leaving this piece of junk until I win".
The cat remained untouched.
By coin seven, his confidence had shifted from cocky to stubborn. Sweat was beading on his forehead under the neon lights. His usual playful smirk had turned into a focused scowl that would’ve sent underclassmen running.
You were doubled over laughing at this point, clutching your sides. “Babe, it’s been twenty minutes. We can just buy a plushie somewhere else. Or, you know… admit defeat.”
“Defeat?” He whirled on you, eyes wide with mock outrage. “Geum Seong-je doesn’t admit defeat. Especially not over a goddamn cat plushie. I’m doing this for you. As a good boyfriend.”
You raised an eyebrow, still giggling. “A good boyfriend would’ve won it on the first try instead of trash-talking the machine for half an hour.”
He pointed an accusing finger at you. “You’re the one who wanted it. Now I have to win it. My pride is on the line here.”
“Your pride versus a claw machine. This is the hill you’re dying on?”
“Exactly.”
Coin eight. He tried a new tactic, tilting his body with the joystick like it would transfer “power” to the claw. The arm swung wildly and knocked over a different plushie instead. Not the cat.
“Close!” he claimed, even though it wasn’t.
You wiped tears from your eyes. “You’re terrible at this.”
“I’m strategically wearing it down,” he insisted, feeding another coin. “The machine will crack eventually.”
The arcade staff had started glancing over. One employee looked like he was debating whether to intervene as Seong-je muttered curses at the claw under his breath.
“Stupid weak grip… come on, grab it properly… I’ve crushed skulls harder than this thing…”
You leaned in closer, resting your chin on his shoulder as he concentrated on attempt number ten. “You know, it’s kind of cute watching you fail so spectacularly.”
He paused, turning his head just enough to glare at you. “Cute? I’m not cute. I’m intimidating.”
“Right now you look like a kid who lost his favorite toy.”
Another failed grab. The claw slipped again. Seong-je let out a dramatic groan and banged his forehead lightly against the glass.
“This is bullshit. In a real fight I’d have this thing on the ground in three seconds.”
“You can’t punch a claw machine, Seong-je.”
“Watch me.”
“You’ll get banned from the arcade.”
“Worth it.”
By now you were both laughing, him through gritted teeth, you openly. The absurdity of the situation hit hard: one of the most feared guys at school, known for his brutal streak and playful sadism in fights, was currently losing a battle of wills against a children’s toy dispenser.
He tried one more time. Coin eleven. Perfect positioning. The claw descended with what felt like divine intervention.
It grabbed the cat.
It lifted.
It moved toward the chute…
…and dropped it at the very edge. The plushie teetered for a heart-stopping moment… then fell back inside with a soft plop.
Seong-je stared in dead silence for five full seconds.
Then he exploded.
“Are you fucking serious right now?!” He threw his hands up, voice carrying over the arcade noise. A couple of middle schoolers nearby turned to stare. “That was perfect! The machine cheated! There’s no way—”
You were laughing so hard you had to hold onto his arm for support. “Oh my god, your ego is in pieces. I can see it shattering on the floor.”
He looked at you, cheeks slightly flushed from frustration and embarrassment, and for a second his usual cocky mask slipped into something almost pouty. “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s hilarious.”
Seong-je ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. Then, unexpectedly, he started laughing too, low at first, then louder, that playful, slightly unhinged laugh he got when something genuinely amused him. “Fine. Okay. Maybe the machine’s stronger than it looks.”
“Maybe you’re not as good at everything as you think,” you teased, poking his chest.
He caught your hand, pulling you closer with that signature smirk returning, though it was softer now, edged with defeat. “Don’t push it. I’m still the best at the things that matter.” His voice dropped, playful but with that underlying intensity he always had around you. “Like keeping you around. Or beating up anyone who looks at you wrong.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile was warm. “My hero. Defeated by polyester and cheap mechanics.”
He glanced back at the cat plushie, still sitting there innocently. “One more try. Last one. If I lose, we leave and never speak of this again.”
“You’ve said that three times already.”
“This time I mean it.”
You both knew he didn’t.
Coin twelve. Seong-je took a deep breath, cracked his neck, and approached the joystick like it was a final boss. You stood behind him, arms wrapped around his waist, chin on his back, giggling quietly.
“Root for me or something,” he muttered.
“Go, big strong boyfriend. Show the evil claw who’s boss.”
“Shut up.”
The claw moved. Positioned. Descended.
Gripped the cat’s head and body this time.
Lifted.
Moved slowly, steadily toward the chute.
You held your breath.
Seong-je tensed, muttering, “Don’t you dare drop it…”
The claw reached the drop zone.
It released.
The plushie fell… straight into the prize chute with a satisfying thunk.
The machine lit up and played a cheerful victory tune.
Seong-je froze. Then he punched the air once, sharply. “Yes! I knew it!”
You squealed and immediately bent down to retrieve the cat plushie from the slot. It was even softer and cuter up close. You hugged it to your chest, beaming up at him.
Seong-je turned to you, chest puffed out, ego fully restored in record time. “See? Told you I’d get it. Just needed the right strategy. Persistence. Skill.”
You raised an eyebrow, holding up the plushie. “After twelve tries and a full mental breakdown?”
“Details,” he waved off, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his side. “The point is, I won. For you. Because I’m such a good boyfriend.”
You laughed, leaning into him as you both walked away from the cursed machine. The cat plushie dangled from your hand, ears flopping with every step.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, tough guy.”
He smirked down at you, that arrogant, playful glint back in his eyes. “You’re welcome, by the way. Next time you want something, just say the word. I’ll handle it. No problem.”
“Even if it’s another claw machine?”
“Especially if it’s another claw machine.”
You shook your head, but you were smiling too wide to hide it. Dating Seong-je was never boring. His ego was massive, his temper quick, and his pride ridiculous… but moments like this, when he turned something small and silly into a personal mission just because it made you happy, reminded you why you put up with all of it.
As you left the arcade, the neon lights reflecting in the evening streets, Seong-je stole the plushie from your hands for a second, holding it up like a trophy.
“See this? Proof that even rigged machines bow to me eventually.”
You snatched it back, laughing. “Sure, big guy. Sure.”
He grinned, unrepentant, and pressed a quick, rough kiss to the top of your head. “Damn right.”
The two of you walked home like that, you clutching your hard-won cat plushie, him with his arm around you, bragging the whole way about his “masterful” technique while you teased him relentlessly about the twelve failures.
Neither of you mentioned how much money had disappeared into that machine.
